A Mile in Her Shoes
by livestar
Summary: They always seem to be the butt of some universal joke or other. This time,fate,with its twisted sense of humor,decides to teach them a lesson:wormholes and interdimensional bridges don't mix well!And deeper down the rabbit hole they go..SG:Farscape Xover
1. Down the Rabbit Hole, pt 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own, You don't sue, It's so sad, But it's so true.**

**Author's Notes: Well, this is one of those Farscape/Stargate protagonists-who-just-happen-to-look-absolutely-identical-switch-places crossovers out there—we all know they're just _asking_ to be written! I hope you enjoy it! **

**And please point out anything I get wrong: while I've been a SG fan for a while, I'm relatively new to Farscape (love it, though, it's pure genius) and might not get all the characters and dialogue and details right. Let me know how I'm doing!**

**Chapter 1**

**Down the Rabbit Hole pt.1: Something New, Something Blue**

Her eyes shot open and she fought for her usual awareness. All her senses were slightly dulled. A wispy haze floated at the edges of her vision, and she blinked a couple of times to clear it away. A ringing noise stabbed at her eardrums, and she frowned in annoyance. She shook her head, but the ringing didn't go away. Eventually, as awareness fully set in, she realized it was coming not from inside her head, but from somewhere to her right.

"She's coming around."

A face came into her line of sight, and a woman, dark-haired, pointed a light into her eyes.

"Do you remember what happened?"

She didn't.

"Dr. Lam?" From the corner of her eye, she noticed a young man in a light-blue uniform of sorts addressing the dark-haired woman. "All her readings are returning to normal, same for Colonel Carter and Dr. Jackson."

"Do you know where you are?" The woman was talking to her again. "Vala…? What do you feel? Talk to me."

She wouldn't have heeded the urge, but the impulse was stronger than her long-cultivated suspicion.

"Frell."

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The lights were a warm yellow, and there was a faint, strange smell in the air. For a second, she hoped it was just a nightmare and she was really still in her quarters at SG command. Taking a deep breath in the hope to clear her head, she idly wondered what backwater planet she'd landed on this time.

Then she felt the faintest twinge in her entire body, and recognized the sensation instantly.

That was no planet. She was on a ship, in space.

"Good, you're awake," a gentle voice came from behind. She pushed at the light blanket covering her. "How are you feeling?"

She propped one elbow on the hard table and half-turned to see her interlocutor.

"Whoa…!"

She nearly fell off the table in shock. Hallucinations, must be hallucinations. She frowned and shook her head, but the sight remain unchanged.

"You're…blue." She arched her eyebrows and repeated with more conviction. "You're _blue_."

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They'd been fussing around her forever. What kind of game was it, she wondered, all the doctoring and the concerned visages.

"Vala?"

They insisted on addressing her by that name, and she wouldn't correct them…yet. Not until she knew for sure who they were and why they'd captured her. She directed a guarded gaze towards the same dark-haired woman—Dr. Lam, they called her—who had spoken to her earlier.

"I need you to tell me how you feel."

"Why?"

For the first time, Aeryn spoke. Her voice was cold, but carefully non-inflammatory. Had she not felt each limb as heavy as lead, and her head three times its normal weight, she would have tried an escape. As things were, she could barely see for the throbbing headache and the dull pounding in her ears. If Moya had rammed into her at full speed, it could not have felt worse.

It was a ridiculous thought, of course, and she silently berated herself for the silly comparison. She'd been around Crichton for too long.

"There might have been residual effects of the device…do you feel disoriented, dizzy, do you experience difficulty in speaking, anything like that?"

Aeryn swallowed.

"Device?"

She saw 'Dr. Lam' frown.

"Memory loss…" The woman gave her a serious look. "Vala, what's the last thing you remember?"

Another question.

"Why don't you…refresh my memory."

The people in the infirmary exchanged wary glances.

"I'm not sure exactly what happened, to be honest," Dr. Lam replied. " There was accident in Colonel Carter's laboratory, you two and Dr. Jackson got caught in the shockwave..."

"What kind of accident?"

The story sounded more and more fantastic by the second. Where was she? Who were all those people? Where were the others?

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"Aeryn, are you alright?"

Vala's eyebrows almost disappeared in her dark hair. The blue…creature next to her seemed concerned by her remark.

"Erm…yeah…"

Sam's device. The interdimensional bridge or whatever. Had she been shot out into a different dimension? Had Sam's toy thrown her conscience into someone else's body, the same way the Ancient communication device had?

In a brief moment of horror, she stared down at her hands, and was immensely relieved to notice they weren't blue.

Well, she was on a ship in space, in gods only knew what corner of the universe, with no idea of how she'd gotten there or how she'd get back home, but at least she wasn't _blue_!

**So, what do you think? Should I go on? (considering three quarters of this story are written, I hope you think I should…!) I need to hear your comments, people, to know how I'm doing here! Thank you for reading!**


	2. Down the Rabbit Hole, pt 2

**Wow, thanks so much for all your reviews! I'm really happy everyone is enjoying the story, and so grateful for all your advice and suggestions! Now, there seems to be a definite difference of opinions as to whether the story should go Daniel/Vala or Cam/Vala (everyone's agreeing on John/Aeryn, though, which is great because I love them, too!)...but since Aeryn and Vala are so far away from their universes, we don't have to decide on that just yet! **

**I hope you like this chapter as well!**

**Chapter 2:**

**Down the Rabbit Hole, pt.2: Familiar Faces**

Conceivably, she was trapped for an indefinite period of time in a universe she knew next to nothing about, on a spaceship with blue, bald aliens and the mother of all headaches.

And she'd thought having her months-old daughter take over the galaxy and kill millions of innocents was the worst hand that fate could deal.

She swore under her breath, and felt the blue creature put a comforting hand on her arm.

"I feel you are troubled, Aeryn. Can I help you with anything?"

Vala grimaced. She didn't know where to start. Should she tell the truth? Would it help? Would it get her executed?

Statistically speaking, she felt the chances were much better for the latter.

Well, whoever the blue alien was, she—Vala had ascertained it was a female of the species (whatever species that was)—seemed quite friendly towards this 'Aeryn'. So playing along seemed like the best option.

"No…actually, yes." She stopped for a moment. Things suddenly didn't look so easy. If she asked for any directions around the ship, she could cause suspicion. "Never mind," she said with her sweetest smile. "I'll be fine."

"If you say so," the other said kindly. "John will be here in a moment. Since trying to recreate the wormhole was his idea…"

Vala's attention spiked. Wormhole! Now, _there_ was a good start to explaining her current predicament. What _was_ it with her and wormholes?

"…he feels responsible for what happened," the alien continued.

Vala wished she could ask _who_ felt responsible and _for what_. But she knew better.

"Right," she nodded noncommittally. As the other was obviously waiting for a more complex answer, she took an educated guess: "Oh…uhm, he shouldn't feel, er, responsible…what happened was, uhm, just a…well…he couldn't have known…"

Not her most convincing performance. But it seemed to satisfy the blue one. Before their conversation could go any further, another voice came from behind.

"Aeryn…"

Vala turned at the familiar tone, and her face visibly brightened.

"Mitchell!"

She didn't understand why they both seemed so surprised—and worried.

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"So, in theory, the device was only a small-scale model. It shouldn't have opened the bridge for more than a nanosecond, and energy transfer was not supposed to occur at any significant level. But something caused the energy to spike, and that's how we got caught in the blast."

Reclining comfortably against three pillows on her bed in infirmary, Aeryn listened to the blonde woman's—'Colonel Carter'—description of the incident. Everyone still appeared to take her for someone else, and she still did not correct them. This looked too much like one of the mind-games she'd been warned about.

"Right."

If it was a mind-game, it had to have a purpose. Her captors, whoever they might be, had to want something from her—most likely information. On Moya's location, maybe, or perhaps something from her past as a Peacekeeper. Whatever it was, they wouldn't get it. She wanted to make that clear as soon as possible.

"What now?" she asked indifferently.

Colonel Carter and the man—Carter referred to him as 'Daniel'—exchanged a look.

"What do you mean?" Carter eventually asked.

"You've explained very well—and quite plausibly—"she added with a faint trace of sarcasm, "how I came to be in this state…so what's next?"

Before either of them could answer—although, by their confused expressions, they were not going to do so, 'Dr. Lam' appeared next to the bed.

"_Next_," she said in an authoritative tone, "you rest and recover." 'Daniel' opened his mouth to protest, but the woman cut him off: "You were in an explosion, need I remind you that you all _barely_ made it out alive, and that Vala was closest to the center and it was nothing short of a miracle that _she_'s still here?"

That seemed to effectively shut him up.

"So, Dr. Jackson, back to your bed please, and Colonel, I'm still wondering if I should confine you to infirmary as well—"

"That's really not necessary, I'm fine," Carter immediately protested.

"—I'll have to do it if you refuse to get some _rest_." With those words, the doctor turned on her heels, gave them one last warning look, and left them.

The blonde sat up from her chair, shaking her head with a small roll of her eyes. Aeryn found herself unwillingly sympathizing. Before either of them could say anything, Dr. Lam's angry voice floated to them.

"I am seriously recommending no more visitors to either of them!"

"And I 'm _seriously_ considering your recommendation," came another voice, one that made Aeryn jump.

She immediately pushed Daniel and Carter aside, and her eyes widened at the sight of the newcomer. A small sigh unwillingly escaped her lips.

"John…"

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"She claims she's fine, Crichton."

"She called me 'Mitchell', for God's sake!"

"You call Rygel 'Sparky' half the time," Zhaan reasonably pointed out.

"That's different!"

"John…" the Delvian gave him a warm smile. "There is nothing wrong with her, I checked; she's fine."

"Zhaan, my module exploded on the brink of a wormhole, and we were all but sucked in! I'm still not sure how you managed to pick us up, we were barely alive, floating in space virtually naked among a pile of debris and a couple of meters away from an unstable vortex!"

She shook her head.

"That's exaggerating, John."

"Not by much, it isn't. I'm still not sure how we survived the explosion of the module."

"Apparently it had more fail-safes built in than you gave it credit for," a voice boomed behind the two of them, as D'Argo walked into the room. "Besides, we were ready to bring you aboard the first time you signaled the aberrant energy readings. You and Aeryn didn't spend more than a few seconds in space, and obviously you were protected enough to survive that."

Crichton shook his head, still doubtful.

"We ejected out of an exploding shuttle into a collapsing wormhole…"

"So now you have something to tell your grandchildren about, Crichton, so stop complaining."

He gave the Luxan a skeptical, yet obviously amused, look.

"Yeah."

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Aeryn clenched her fist, and noticed with satisfaction that the strength was returning to her. Her head no longer felt heavy, and the pounding in her ears had stopped. The dull ache in her heart was still there, and she angrily pounded the mattress on her bed.

It wasn't _him_. Sure, he looked like John, maybe even sounded like him, but there were subtle differences. In his eyes, when they looked at her. In the inflexions of his voice, when he spoke to her. He wasn't John Crichton, and that made her unreasonably angry.

Remembering how she'd called the man by John's name, she grew angrier still. She'd given her captors one first bit of information, and that was inadmissible.

She slipped out of bed, and was happy to realize her balance was fine. The blue infirmary gown allowed her to move freely and noiselessly, but she knew she would change out of it the first chance she got. But first, she needed to get out, to get her bearings, find out more about where she was and with whom. If those people hoped to get something out of her, they were in for a bitter disappointment.

And if not…? The last thing she remembered was staring into the hypnotic blue depths of Crichton's (frell him and his reckless plans!) wormhole. What if the place she was now in was not a mind game, but a wholly different world…?

Aeryn shivered. She did not want to think about that.

**So, how am I doing? Are the first explanations of how Aeryn and Vala got to switch places making any sense? While that's not the focus of the story, they'll need to figure it out in order to get back at some point... Is the Farscape bit still on the right track? Let me know, please! Thanks so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!**


	3. The Masks We Choose, pt 1

**Author's notes: Thank you, everyone, for your comments and suggestions! I am really surprised (but in a good way!!) and very happy with the response this story is getting! I hope you'll stay with it till the end:)**

**Chapter 3**

**The Masks We Choose, pt 1: The Play, the Fray**

"Aeryn?"

Vala sighed and sat up on the bed.

"Yes…"

Someone came into her room (well, technically it was Aeryn's room, but Vala seldom concerned herself with mundane issues such as rightful ownership). It was Mitchell—no, damn it, not Mitchell, _John_. They looked almost perfectly alike, and she was still sorely tempted to regard him as her SG1 commander and friend. Still, he'd been very disturbed when she'd first made that mistake, and Vala was decided not to do it again. She only hoped he'd be as fooled by her appearance as she had been by his.

She'd figured it out pretty quickly after seeing this 'John'. If there was someone who could look _so much_ like Mitchell, the 'Aeryn' that everyone mistook her for must have looked just as much like her. Refusing to allow the infinite possibilities of parallel universes and alter egos to addle her brain forever, Vala chose to think instead at the bright side. At least luck allowed for small blessings. If they discovered she wasn't the real Aeryn, they might at least _hesitate_ to kill her due to the striking resemblance.

Until then, she'd do her best to play the part.

"You can say 'I told you so', you know…"

Of course, it would be much easier if she actually _knew_ anything about the place or its people.

"Erm…I told you so?" she tried. Unlike the blue one, 'John' didn't seem convinced.

"What's wrong, Aeryn?"

Vala swallowed hard.

"Nothing," she quickly replied. "Why would there be something wrong?"

"Why did you call me 'Mitchell'?"

Well, he obviously wasn't one to beat around the bush…

"You…er…reminded me of someone at that moment, that's all…"

He looked doubtful.

"I reminded you of someone? I thought I was the first human you ever met."

"_What_?" Vala jumped, yet immediately realized her slip, she covered: "I don't mean your looks…John…just, something about you reminded me of him."

While she spoke the words, her mind worked frantically. So, he was _human_—from Earth? What was he doing there? Could he be trusted? And just what race was that Aeryn person?

"So…who was he?"

"It's really not important John," Vala said dismissively, reluctant to tell too many lies. "Was there something you wanted to talk about?" Asking questions was always safer than having to answer them.

"Nope, just checking to see if you're alright…it was a pretty close call…"

She smiled at his concern, with her usual, bright smile that simply radiated cheer and optimism.

"Well, I appreciate your concern, but I'm fine, and I could really use some re—_why_ are you staring at me?"

He watched her silently, surprise etched on his features. Her sudden inquiry seemed to bring him out of it.

"I've never seen you smile like this before…you have a beautiful smile…" he said, almost unconsciously, and wasn't really surprised to see her smile falter.

Vala mentally kicked herself. Another slip, but how was she supposed to know how often Aeryn _smiled_? How many other ridiculous little details would she have to mind?! It would be hard to hide the truth from everyone, especially from _him_. Vala didn't know why, but something inside her warned that, if anyone, it would be John who would see through her act. His eyes still searched her face, in a non-intruding yet decidedly quizzical manner.

She suddenly felt self-conscious under his gaze, and turned away from the man.

"Anything else you wanted…John?"

He shook his head, then, realizing she couldn't see the gesture, spoke out loud:

"No, I'll just…go now…" but he failed to move for another few seconds. Eventually, he turned around and left at a slow, almost longing pace.

Alone, Vala sighed with relief. She let herself drop on the bed, and surveyed the room with a curious eye. It looked nothing like her quarters at SGC, nothing like the ones on any other ship she'd been on. She couldn't recognize the architecture of the vessel, just as she hadn't been able to tell what race the blue alien belonged to. She felt very much a stranger in that place—and the nearest and dearest she had there was 'John'. She idly wondered what that would lead to.

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"Where do you think you're going?"

The man's suspicious voice stopped her in her tracks. Frell. She thought she'd been stealthy, but apparently 'Daniel', in a bed close to hers, had not been sleeping as she'd assumed. He was probably there to keep an eye on her. She slowly turned to him.

"Why are you keeping me here?" she asked in a menacing tone. "Where's Crichton?"

Her recent memories weren't quite clear, but she recalled Crichton's experiment with creating a wormhole—and how he'd dragged her into it almost against her will. She also remembered an unusual energy reading just before his 'perfectly engineered' wormhole had collapsed onto itself, trapping the flimsy module and frying all command panels inside. Obviously, if she'd somehow been thrown through the collapsing vortex into a different galaxy, he'd have to be there as well.

"Who's Crichton? Vala, _what_ are you talking about?"

Except, they hadn't found her adrift in a damaged space module. They claimed she'd been hurt in an accident involving some interdimensional bridge—if the existence of such thing was even possible.

"Quit playing games!" she ordered forcefully.

But what if it wasn't a game? What if it was true, and she was in an entirely different dimension, where she actually knew all those people? But, then, why were they calling her by a different name? Why was John not himself? How did all the pieces fit together?

"Why don't you sit back down…"

Daniel's edgy tone had softened. She saw him getting up from his own bed and turning on a small lamp. The light reached his face, and his features expressed something close to concern.

"Were you dreaming, was it a memory…Vala? Who's Crichton? Why are you acting like this?"

Frozen by indecision, she stood while he came closer. Was he friend or foe? What if his people weren't lying? How had she come to be in their reality? She took short breaths as he walked closer to her, the same expression of concern on his face. What should she do next?

But amongst all the doubt, she knew one thing for certain.

She wasn't who they thought she was. She wasn't one of them.

Just as Daniel reached an arm to touch her, she grabbed it and twisted it around his back until he cried out in pain.

"What—"

"Silence!" she commanded him, applying a little more pressure to his arm. She felt a small resistance. "I'll snap you arm, and every bone in your body if I have to. If you don't do as I say."

She was satisfied to feel his resistance lessen.

"That's better. Now," she lowered her voice to a whisper, "how do I get out of here?"

**So, are we still good? It makes sense that Aeryn and Vala would act differently under similar circumstances, right? Do you think their reactions are plausible? (I especially wonder about Aeryn, if she's 'in-character') Let me know what you think, and thank you again for reading! **


	4. The Masks We Choose, pt 2

**Author's Notes: Thank you so much for your comments, they're very encouraging and definitely keep me going! **

**Chapter 4:**

**The Masks We Choose,pt.2: Accommodations **

"Where do you want to go, Vala?"

She was growing impatient.

"Stop calling me that."

She heard him sigh, and noticed his shoulders slump slightly.

"Fine, what do you _want_ me to call you?"

Her eyes narrowed.

"Why should I tell you?" she asked in a dangerous tone.

"Because you just told me to stop calling you—_ow_!!" He let out a small cry of pain as she twisted his arm harder. "Stop that!"

"Quit whining," she said disdainfully, as they headed down yet another corridor.

_Minutes later…_

They'd passed a couple of green-clad men on the way, but Daniel had simply nodded, told them all was fine, and they hadn't seemed inclined to dispute. Silently, Aeryn wondered why the man was so cooperating. Perhaps he was simply a coward. Or maybe his plan was more complex. Either way, she'd come out on top.

"Where can I get normal clothes?"

He paused for a moment, as if considering his answer.

"Vala…" he started, but she cut him off harshly.

"Where. Can I get. Clothes."

Daniel sighed once more, and shook his head in resignation.

"There's a locker room down this hall. Or we _could_ go to your quarters," he added under his breath.

She shoved him forward.

"Locker room." She might have heard Crichton mention the term once or twice, as it did not sound entirely unfamiliar. "Lead the way."

"Of course…" he said, and she detected a faint trace of irony in his voice. "Prometheus all over again, isn't it…"

She had no idea what he was talking about, and no desire to find out. She focused on the task at hand: namely, finding out what had happened to Crichton, then finding a way out.

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"Oh? Hello…I don't suppose _you_ can tell me how to find…John… or some other people aboard this ship."

Much to her surprise, the tiny yellow robot chirped shrilly, then turned on its wheels and headed down the corridor.

"Or, maybe you can…" she amended, following it closely.

A few minutes later, she stumbled onto a strange sight. John was hanging head-down from a hole in the ceiling, only the upper part of his body visible. Right under him, a behemoth that did not strike Vala as particularly friendly-looking was using some sort of welding machine on a nearby wall. Occasionally, he would yank a cable out of the wall and hand it to John, who would then disappear for a moment or two inside the hole in the ceiling, only to appear again announcing he was done.

When he saw Vala, the behemoth stopped his work and turned to her.

"Aeryn, good, you're here. Crichton knows nothing about repairing the iriscentent fluid ducts."

Vala immediately recoiled. Fluid ducts? Maybe Crichton—whoever that was—knew nothing about _repairing_ them, but at least he knew what they _were_. Which easily placed him above her in knowledge of that area.

"Oh, I don't know…he seems to be doing a pretty good job."

"See, D'Argo, she can appreciate my expertise," John's upper-half piped in from the ceiling, and Vala realized _he_ was Crichton. John Crichton…that had a nice ring to it. And the other's name was D'Argo.

"They do say that time spent in vacuum does things to…some species," the behemoth quipped, and Vala's eyes widened.

"_Vacuum_?"

The other two exchanged a look.

"Aeryn, just how much do you remember of our little…expedition?"

She nervously bit her lower lip.

"Erm…" She decided not to take any chances. Never let it be said that Vala Mal Doran couldn't tell when truth was the better option. "Actually, I don't remember all that much, what was that about the vacuum?"

"Pilot directed Moya towards you the moment Crichton told us about the unusual energy readings," D'Argo provided, "As the wormhole collapsed, the gravity field lessened in intensity so Moya could approach with…"

He looked towards the half-molten cables hanging down from the ceiling, and his lips curled in sarcasm.

"…_minimal_ damage."

Vala frowned, trying to make sense of his explanation. She didn't quite succeed.

"We got lucky," Crichton said dryly.

_That_, Vala could readily make sense of. 'Getting lucky' was an essential part of all SG1's plans, she thought, nodding to herself.

"Can't say the same thing about my module," Crichton said in a bitter tone, "Everything was fried, half of it's gone…"

Vala arched her eyebrows at his glum countenance. Men, they were all the same! They'd plunge headfirst into a wormhole, but couldn't stand the loss of one toy.

"At least we made it out alive," she pointed out.

Crichton gave her a long look, before finally nodding.

"You're right…we're safe, and Moya, too... that's all that matters," he finished half-heartedly, and Vala suddenly wondered if there was something more about the module that she didn't know.

"Unfortunately, the gravity field still did some damage," D'Argo said, nodding towards the rough wall he had been working on, and the cables hanging from the ceiling, some of them seeping some sort of viscous colorless substance. "We need to take care of this before Moya can starburst again."

"Aha." Vala nodded, pretending to actually understand what he was talking about. "Well, then, I'd better leave you two to it…" she added, slowly starting to move away…

"Wait!"

She winced.

"Yes…D'Argo?"

"The DRDs can finish this," he said, putting down the welding tool, "and they can unclog the rest of the tubes if we missed any. Pilot!" he called, and Vala briefly wondered about it before a soft voice replied:

"Yes, D'Argo. Moya is still not ready to starburst. The pressure of the gravity field caused two of her neural connections to overload. The DRDs are working on that as we speak."

"Can we help, Pilot?" John asked, carefully lowering himself back to the floor.

"It would be preferable," the voice replied, "as you can most likely work faster than the DRDs. As the wormhole will have drawn attention, alacrity would be appreciated."

"In other words, we need to starburst out of here before Crais or some PK patrol arrives," Crichton commented, and D'Argo merely growled disdainfully.

Vala rolled her eyes. PK? Starburst? _Alacrity_? She missed the times when she used to make sense of the sentences spoken to her.

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Daniel leaned his forehead against the cool metal locker, and hoped he was just having an awful nightmare.

"Done, let's move."

He raised his eyes to a Vala dressed in the usual olive-green uniform of the SGC, and knew it was no nightmare. She really was trying to force her way out of the base, and he could see no other way of helping her than playing along…for the moment, at least. He had no idea what was wrong with her, she seemed a totally different person; Daniel hoped it was not an aftereffect of the short-circuited Goa'uld memory device.

"Great, where are we going now?" he asked with false cheerfulness.

"You're going to get me out of this place."

He winced. He'd been fearing that request.

"Sorry, no can do," he said calmly. "There's no—"

In less than a second, he found himself face-down on the floor, the tip of her boot pressed into his neck. Cold fear, not for himself but for her and her strange behavior, washed over Daniel.

"You'll show me the way out, _now_, or I won't need you anymore," she threatened.

"Look," Daniel tried to speak though half his face was pressed hard against the concrete floor, "try to remember, Vala, we live here on the base—well, most of the time, anyway—why would you want to leave?"

"Why would you want me to stay?" she retorted, pressing harder on his neck.

She was acting as though they were her enemies, and Daniel remembered the day when she'd held him at gunpoint. He had gotten through to her then, he trusted, and hoped, that he could do it again.

"Because this is where you belong, just lis—"

"No." Her voice was ice-cold. "You listen, _Daniel_", and there was something menacing about the way she said his name, like it repulsed her to speak it, "you will get me out of here or I _will_ kill you and find someone else to do it."

That got through to him. She wouldn't kill him, that much he was sure of, but if she left him behind and started roaming the base by herself in that condition, people could get hurt. _She_ could get hurt. And he wouldn't allow that.

"Alright," he wheezed out, and felt the pressure on his neck lessen. "I'll do it."

**As always, your comments and suggestions are very, very welcome! Please let me know what you think of this newest chapter! **


	5. Trouble in Paradise, pt 1

**Author's Notes: Thank you, everyone, for your wonderful feedback! You've no idea how incredibly helpful it is to hear your thoughts on the story! I hope you enjoy this chapter, as well!**

**Trouble in Paradise, pt. 1**

**By the Pricking of My Thumbs…**

Vala bit back a cry as her fingers scraped yet another loose connection, and electricity shot through her hand. By now, she knew from experience the arm would be numb up to the elbow for the next two minutes or so.

"Here, I'll do it," John offered and she looked up almost gratefully. But then she caught his eye, and a small alarm rang at the back of her head.

"It's fine, I've got it."

She had the feeling he'd been watching her discreetly, perhaps intuiting that something was wrong but not quite able to put his finger on it. She'd have to be on her toes or she'd involuntarily clue him in.

She tried to fix another connection, and this time it worked smoothly. Stealing a furtive glance at Crichton, she found his eyes fixed upon her. He wore a slightly thoughtful frown, and she quickly diverted her nervous gaze. Fortunately, D'Argo chose that moment to speak.

"Someone needs to get up there" he indicated a small opening above them; Vala would have taken it for a ventilation duct, "and make sure all the nervous connections meeting at the TS plexus are functioning normally."

Looking at the narrow opening, Vala sighed inwardly.

"I'll do it," she said with much more confidence than she actually felt, "I'll fit in easiest."

One minute later, she found herself in a small, circular chamber with a seemingly endless number of wires and cables gathering into one shapeless mound. She'd have to check that that _thing _functioned properly. She took a second to focus, recalling all the different ships she'd flown. Sure, they were vastly different in technology…but the principles had to be the same, right?

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"Open the door."

"No."

He blocked the hit she directed at his torso, then the next one, and another aimed at his head. She was surprisingly fast for someone who had just been in an explosion the day before. In a matter of seconds, she had him pinned down.

"Open. The Door. Now," she hissed, one arm securely wrapped around his throat and squeezing slowly.

"Sorry, Vala. I'm not going to hurt you…and I _hope_ you're not going to hurt me, but…" his voice became raspy as her grasp tightened. He briefly wondered where she'd learnt all those moves. "I can't open that door and let you wander out of here in this state. No more running, remember?"

"Stop trying to trick me, it's not going to work," she said forcefully. "Now tell me what you did to Crichton, and how to get out of this place!"

Daniel was getting desperate.

"I have no idea who Crichton _is_!" he all but shouted, "and the only way out of this room is the door, and _I_ locked us both in. Only way to open it is if someone does it from the outs—_aah_!" he let out an involuntary yelp as she pressed harder against his trachea.

"What's the point of all this!" she demanded furiously.

"The point," Daniel tried to explain, "is to get you to listen! It's your choice, we can both stay here and talk, or, you can shout for someone to get us out—and _please_ don't think of using me as a hostage," he added, anticipating her idea. "You can't keep a hostage with your bare hands against the entire base," he pointed out.

Aeryn kept silent for a moment. She couldn't see the purpose of his actions. They puzzled her, and she hated that—but at the moment, she was trapped.

She hated that, too. With a rough shove, she released the grip on his neck, and he stumbled forward, putting a hand against the nearby wall for support.

"Good, now we're getting somewhere," Daniel finally said, rubbing his sore throat. She simply stared at him coolly. "Trust me, I only want to help you."

"Trust me," she replied, equally serious, "from the two of us, I won't be the one needing help."

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"D'Argo, Moya has detected a ship on the outer range of our long-distance sensors. I am yet unable to identify it, but we must assume it is not a friendly vessel."

"Basing that assumption, of course," Crichton commented under his breath, "on the fact that there _are_ no vessels friendly towards us in this galaxy."

"Aeryn," D'Argo called, "is the tertiary sacral plexus intact?"

"As far as I can tell," came the reply from above, muffed by the platform that served as ceiling. "No burnt or molten cables, no disrupted links…it should work just fine."

"Hear that Pilot? We are going to test the neural connection now."

"Please do so, as we do not have much time if Moya is to starburst before the arrival of the unknown ship."

Vala let herself slide back down through the narrow opening. The tips of her fingers still tingled from the many times she'd touched some poorly isolated cable or other. If she hadn't known better, she'd have sworn the ship did it on purpose!

Watching D'Argo test the repairs with some interest, she idly wondered what the approaching ship portended.

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Aeryn paced the small room impatiently.

"I should just kill you now."

"When did you become such a ruthless criminal?" Daniel asked with some irony. "The Vala I know—"

He stopped as she pulled forcefully at the door handle.

"Give it up, Vala. This used to be a storage room, you know…it can only be locked and unlocked _from the outside_," he emphasized, but got no reply. "Hasn't been used in a while, mechanism's getting rusty…that's why _I_ could lock us in."

She gave him a cold look.

"And I suppose you knew that because you've had previous experience with it…"

He grimaced.

"Well…yeah, I locked myself in by mistake a couple of years ago, if that's what you mean."

"Very intelligent of you. How did you get out?"

"I punched through the door."

She swiftly turned to face him, suddenly wary, and measured him cautiously. Her eyes ran up and down his body, from head to toe. Then she let out a disdainful sneer.

"I'm sure you did."

Losing interest in the conversation, she turned back to fumble with the lock. Unfortunately, her training did not expand to rigging anachronical door mechanisms—and rusty ones at that.

"Frell," she cursed under her breath.

There had to be something else in the room. Aeryn had learnt to use _everything _around to her advantage. She quickly looked around the small storage space. Four plain gray walls, a rack of empty metal shelves covering the one left of the door. A small light-bulb hanging from the ceiling.

"Not much to take over the whole base, is it?" Daniel commented, as though he'd read her mind.

He'd sat down on the floor, leaning his back against the wall, and watched her calmly. He congratulated himself on the idea of leading her to the storage room and locking them both there. At least now she was safe—and the rest of the people on the base, save him of course, were safe from her. Now all he had to do was convince her to go back to the infirmary and let Dr. Lam check her out and restore her memory.

Frustrated by the futile attempts to open the door, she suddenly turned to him, her eyes narrowing menacingly. Daniel swallowed hard.

He was truly concerned for her wellbeing, but under her scorching glare, he was starting to worry about his, as well. He gave her a tentative smile.

"It'll be ok, you'll see."

And the alarms on the base started howling, as all hell seemed to break loose.

**As always, please let me know how I'm doing! As this story progresses, my muse often feels very much like Vala, enthusiastic but quite clueless when it comes to some details about the Farscape universe. So, your comments always contribute to making the story plausible and in concordance with cannon! Thank you so much! (and sorry to make the author's note the size of a novel…)**


	6. Trouble in Paradise, pt 2

**Hi, everyone, and thank you again for reading and for giving me your opinions! **

**Before we get on with the story, I'll follow Tigerdrake's advice and make the time frame of this story clear. It takes place in first-season Farscape, towards the end of the season but certainly before "A bug's life". If Chiana doesn't make an appearance by the end, then we have the exact time-frame set between "Jeremiah Crichton" and "Durka Returns". (Your suggestions and info on the Farscape universe helped a lot with making that clear, so thank you so much!) In Stargate universe, the story takes place between "Memento Mori" and "Company of Thieves". **

**Okay, done author-noting, on with the story…**

**Trouble in Paradise, pt. 2:**

**From Confinement, Comes Confession**

Vala wasn't too sure what the behemoth named D'Argo had barked, but she could bet a month's wage (not that _that_ would be a risky bet, she mentally noted, since she apparently wasn't allowed to collect yet) that it had not been something meant for delicate ears.

"I thought you said the plexus was intact!" D'Argo shouted at her above the hissing and crackling noises.

"It _was_!" she cried defensively. "I don't know what went wrong! Give me a lift so I can check!"

She immediately felt him grab her waist and lift her swiftly towards the opening in the ceiling. Some of the smoke had entered the small space holding what they called the 'tertiary sacral plexus', and she coughed upon inhaling. Pulling herself up, she looked at the bundle of converging cables once more.

"It doesn't look too bad," she shouted so John and D'Argo could hear, "but I don't think it's as good as new, either."

"Think our friend out there will wait for a second round of repairs?" she heard John ask with rich irony.

"Pilot," D'Argo called in reply, "can Moya starburst in her current condition?"

"She will try," came the same voice from earlier. "Prepare yourselves for starburst in thirty microts."

"Aeryn, get down from there," John called, and just as the soles of her feet touched the floor once more, Vala felt a strange, yet vaguely familiar sensation pass through her body. She felt the tips of her fingers tingle, and heard some more crackling and smelled some more smoke and felt a sudden pull in her entire body, as Moya entered starburst.

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"It's useless, it won't open, and there's no other way out!"

Frustrated, Daniel pounded the door with his fists. The alarm still resounded in the corridors, and he had no idea what had happened, he couldn't _help_ because he was stuck in an old storage room with a faulty lock!

"At least tell me the room's fireproof!" she shouted angrily.

"What?" He frowned in confusion. "That's not a fire alarm—"

"Then _why_ is there _smoke_ coming from under the door?"

She rattled the handle once more. With some degree of panic, Daniel noticed she was right, a thin wisp of smoke was slowly crawling into the room. Frustration exploded inside him, and he quickly pushed her aside, trying to get the door open once more. Not knowing what had gone wrong outside the room was killing him. It was easy to think of the worst.

He pushed and pulled with all his strength, but the door wouldn't budge. He thought of some of his childhood comicbook heroes, who could bring down a wall just by knocking on it. But he couldn't do that…all he seemed to be able to do was get himself into these kinds of predicaments. What was worse, he'd dragged Vala into it. He turned to her with a regretful expression.

"I'm sorry. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all."

"Maybe?" she repeated incredulously. "We're going to frelling _die_ here, and you think _maybe_ it wasn't such a good idea to trap us both in this burning hole?"

"For the sake of argument, it wasn't burning when I locked us in," he muttered. "Look, Vala, we're not going to die. Whatever dangers threaten this base, everyone on it is trained to deal with them."

"If their training resembles yours," she retorted sarcastically, "you must have many spare storage rooms."

He let out a long-suffering sigh. It wasn't the moment to lose his patience, but the tension was getting to him.

"Listen…I'm sorry for getting us stuck here, but I couldn't let you get hurt trying to _force_ your way out…I only want to help you, alright?" He tried to put his hands on her shoulders, but her warning glare stopped him. "I don't know what the device did to you, what it triggered in your mind, but we're not your enemies, Vala, and we're not holding you captive!"

"Then why am I _locked_ in this room?" she demanded angrily.

Daniel grimaced.

"Because…" He shook his head in resignation, angry at himself. "Because I acted stupidly. I thought I'd get through to you, that somehow I'd make itbetter, make _you_ better, all by myself, what was I _thinking_? I never should have led you out of the infirmary, I should have called someone to help…"

But he'd been too afraid to think straight. Daniel pinched the bridge of his nose. He had no idea what was wrong with her, and it was scaring the heck out of him. She acted and sounded like an entirely different person. What could have _done_ that to her? Not only did he have no answer to that, but now they were both trapped while the rest of the base was on general alert! He admitted to himself, he'd come up with better plans in his long career at SGC.

As the alarms outside the room continued howling, he fixed his gaze on her once more. She had leaned a shoulder against the wall, arms crossed over her chest, and was measuring him with a guarded gaze.

"Just…don't get yourself hurt, okay?" his tone was almost pleading, and he met her eyes with a soothing gaze. "You have to trust me, no one wants to harm you here. I promise we'll find a way to make you remember everything again…"

"Remember?" she asked disbelievingly. "I haven't _forgotten_ anything."

Her words came out in near exasperation. _What_ was he going on about? Concern creased the corners of his eyes, and it was plain to Aeryn that he doubted her words. She cocked her head, giving him a long impatient stare, as he went on.

"Vala, you've been here with us for months, please believe me…you're no longer the space pirate, no longer on the run, lying, cheating, stealing and seducing your way out of everything. That life as a cunning swindler constantly escaping her latest scam is over. You found a home here, with us…and you may not remember it, but you _chose_ to be here." He sighed and brought his palms together. "I know right now you're very confused, but _please_ trust me. You're part of the team now, you help us and fight alongside us and sometimes you even _like_ us, but most importantly you always come through for us and we _trust_ you. And we're here for you, Vala, _I'm_ here for you, to help you, if only you'll allow it."

With those words, he reached his hand to her, his palm turned upwards, an offer as open and sincere as he could have ever made.

Aeryn contemplated his extended hand for a long moment. Finally, with a slight shake of her head, she moved away from her spot and walked to him, until their faces were mere inches apart. A faint trace of a smile reached her almost sympathetic eyes, as she spoke in a low, firm tone:

"Daniel. I remember every second of my life, up until waking up in your infirmary, and I can assure you, I have been many things but _never_ a 'space pirate' and never, _ever_ the astute seducer-bandit you portrayed." She hesitantly bit her lower lip, then finally met his confused gaze again, slowly shaking her head. "I don't know who you're taking me for, but I assure you, you _are_ mistaken. And I truly hope we'll sort this out somehow, but to even begin to work on that, _you_ must believe _me_. I'm not who you think I am, and _this_," she said encompassing their surroundings with a quick look, "is not my home."

**I can't believe this chapter is done…it took so much and so long to write, and this final version is nothing, _nothing_ like the first one. Getting over the communication gap between Aeryn and Daniel was harder than I'd thought, but I hope you like the way it eventually turned out! Please, let me know what you think! I've done and undone and redone and rewritten this part so many times, that I'm not at all certain about it anymore… it would certainly help to get your thoughts on it! Thank you again for staying with the story! **


	7. All That Glitters, pt 1

**AN: Thank you so much for reading, and reviewing! I am sorry for the long delay in updating (my muse got frostbites from the two straight weeks of below freezing temperatures!), hope you're still out there curious what our favorite space/wormhole explorers are up to next. Enjoy!**

**All That Glitters, part 1:**

**Not What It Looks Like**

She grabbed the strong arm proffered, and felt the behemoth effortlessly drag her to her feet. Grabbing onto a nearby wall for support, she instinctively raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sparks that flew everywhere around them.

"Pilot!" John was picking himself up from the floor as well, with an expression of anxiety that Vala could all too easily relate to. "What was _that_?"

"Commander, Moya could not perform a full starburst!" The disembodied voice that she had come to identify as "Pilot" covered the crackling of the electrical cables. "While the damage from the gravity field was not extensive, starbursting under these conditions appeared harmful to the baby—"

Vala's eyebrows shot upwards. _Baby_? They _were_ still talking about the ship, right?

"—so she had to interrupt it. Moya is adamant that she will _not_ attempt another starburst under less than optimal conditions," the pilot informed them, and she could detect a note of agitation behind his otherwise tranquil speech.

"Great," D'Argo groaned. "So this leaves us _where_, Pilot?"

"I am attempting to establish our surroundings. We have not traveled far from our previous location."

"What about the approaching ship?" John seemed to suddenly remember.

"I am afraid I have more bad news. Before going into starburst, Moya recognized the markings of the ship. It is a vessel she has encountered before, when Peacekeepers control collar was still in place." Vala heard the distinctive note of disdain in the pilot's voice, and noticed John visibly wince. "The crew of the vessel had occasional…financial dealings with the officers on Moya. She does not know what these encounters were, but given their infrequent and relatively covert nature, we can assume—"

"Bounty hunters," D'Argo finished for him.

"Of course they would be…" John commented with rich sarcasm. "Any chance they're not out here looking for us?"

Vala rolled her eyes. It seemed that, in all times and all universes, it was her destiny to be targeted by bounty hunters. Grimly, she hoped their potential pursuers resembled Tenat and Jup, the reptilian mercenaries she'd already double-crossed twice.

"Pilot, how long before Moya can starburst again?"

"She will not do it until all her neural connections are intact again, and until the pressure in the lower utility tiers has returned to normal levels. I estimate at least eight arns."

"If that ship comes after us, they'll be here faster than that."

"Then I suggest we get working—"

"Someone is needed in command," 'Pilot' interrupted, and the behemoth nodded curtly.

"I'll get the TS plexus working," he stated, grabbing one of the instruments Vala had not identified yet. He then gave her an expectative look, and she quickly caught on.

"And I…will go…to command," she guessed. Did they actually expect her to _fly_ the ship? "Aaaallright…" she intoned to herself with a half-amused, half-wary shrug, and turned to leave. "I'll see you boys later…"

Once in the corridor, she stopped. They _really_ needed maps on the ship! Vala smiled with relief as she noticed one of the small, yellow robots rolling down towards her. It was worth a try…after all, it had worked _last_ time…

"Okay…" she fixed her palms on her knees and bent slightly towards it, speaking in a slow tone, "_I_ need _you_ to show me the way to command. Got that, little fellow?" The robot chirped in a high-pitched tone, and she grinned. "That's right, take me to comman—"

"Aeryn, _what_ the heck are you doing?"

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Still wary, he watched her with a confused, half-alert, half-doubtful expression. He hadn't decided whether to believe her or not…until he recalled his own experience with the Ancient "communication device". Consciences could transcend space and physical form. He fixed her with searching eyes, almost hoping he could see the foreign soul beyond Vala's familiar appearance. Aeryn had crossed her arms expectantly, and was returning the stare with a long-practiced matter-of-fact air. In the background, the alarms seemed to have become louder, more ominous.

Eventually, Daniel decided conversation had to start at some point.

"So, erm…what's your name?"

"Aeryn Sun," she replied, then held up a warning finger, "_and_ that's as much as you get to know. I'm still deciding whether or not to…"

'Trust' was too much to say, she reckoned.

"_Consider_…" she eventually chose, after a short deliberation, "your version of the facts. So don't ask too many questions."

"Not ask questions?" Daniel repeated with wide-eyed disbelief. "You…you drop _this_ on me and expect me not to ask questions?"

Torn between enthusiasm and concern, he didn't know what to say next. Aeryn took advantage of the moment of silence to start her own round of inquiries.

"Where am I?" she demanded, suddenly all-business.

"Uh…" Daniel frowned for a moment, considering the best answer. "On…Earth?" he ventured.

Her jaw went slack. The next moment, her eyes narrowed in annoyance.

"Frell you, Crichton," she growled under her breath, and Daniel didn't need his extensive linguistics knowledge to know what _that_ meant. Beyond the need to cringe at the profanity, his scientific curiosity was piqued.

"I take it you heard of our planet?"

"_Heard_ of it?" Not willingly, that much was certain, but Crichton could go on and _on_. She rolled her eyes. "All too much," she replied dryly.

Almost against herself, Aeryn admitted she was intrigued by the discovery. If the man in front of her spoke the truth, she was on Crichton's home planet. With renewed curiosity, she measured Daniel once more. He actually resembled John to some extent. Did all men of the species look alike? A planet full of Crichtons—slight variations in model and size. Covering a smirk, she thought of quite a few Peacekeeper female officers who wouldn't mind stopping on Earth for a recalibration of fluid levels.

The moment the involuntary thought crossed her mind, she chased it away furiously. Inconspicuously, she rubbed her cheek to cover the slight blush, and mentally noted to spend less time around Crichton.

"How did you here?" Daniel asked. "Was it an Ancient device? Where did you come from?"

She pursed her lips. Apparently he wasn't too clear on the 'no questions' part. On the other hand, she had at least two honest, harmless answers to offer.

"I have no idea how I got here," she confessed, letting her frustration show. "I've no recollection of any devices that could cause this kind of travel. Wait," she frowned, as the meaning of his words registered, "you mean you've had this happen before?"

"Yeah…" Daniel drawled, wincing as he recalled the avalanche of disasters that had ensued the last time they'd used one of the devices. "You see, the Ancients created a technology that allowed the conscience of an individual to travel across huge distances, so I suppose you must have somehow come into contact with—"

His words froze in midair. Aeryn gestured for him to go on, but he lifted his right index to get her attention.

"Listen…"

It took her precisely one moment to get his meaning.

"The alarms…they stopped."

"This could be either very good," Daniel said slowly, and she finished the sentence for him:

"…or very bad." She grimaced. If all humans had Crichton's knack for trouble, her money would be on the latter. "Whichever it is," she stated per way of consolation, "I'm sure we'll find out very quickly."

As if on cue, the door opened with a loud metal screech, and John's perfect look-alike, 'Mitchell', followed the muzzle of his weapon into the room. A consternated expression set on the man's face as he saw the two people inside. He opened his mouth to say something, blinked slowly, looking for a phrase to match the moment, then promptly snapped his mouth shut. Instead, he tilted his head, cocking both eyebrows and giving Daniel a long look.

Daniel groaned loudly.

"This," he stated, wiggling a finger between himself and Aeryn, "isn't what it looks like."

**AN: As always, I am anxious to get your opinions and suggestions! (continuity geek from hezmana:)) thank you sooo much for your priceless input! I've changed that errant reference!) Also, as someone suggested in a PM, I enabled anonymous reviewing, so I think everyone can leave a message now if they are so inclined! Thank you again for staying with this story, your words of encouragement are what keep me going! **


	8. All That Glitters, pt 2

**All That Glitters, pt.2: Out of the Bag**

"John! Weren't you helping D'Argo fix the, uh, tertiary sacral…plexus?"

"Were you just asking that DRD for _directions_?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about" Vala deadpanned. "Now if you'll excuse me—"

She tried to slip by, but felt him grab her upper arm in a firm grasp. He spun her around until her body was virtually pressed against his; with a small grin, she had to bite back one of her insinuating remarks. Instead, she displayed the most innocent expression she could muster, as John placed both palms on the sides of her face, his eyes searching her keenly.

"What's _wrong_ with you?"

"I appreciate the concern, John, really," she tried to discreetly wriggle out of his grasp, "but it's misplaced. I'm fine. So why don't I just—"

He cut her retreat with a no-nonsense mien.

"Aeryn, you're more nervous than a long-tailed dog in a room full of rocking chairs and I want to know _why_!"

"Commander…" Pilot's voice came over the comms before she could reply, and Vala involuntarily let out a relieved sigh—that caught in her throat as she noticed John was eyeing her every reaction. "Commander Crichton, can you hear me?"

"Yeah…now's not such a good time," he replied in a low tone.

"Oh, no, it's a _very_ good time!" Vala argued quickly, and bit her lower lip as his hand squeezed her upper arm a little more forcefully.

"Moya has just detected the bounty hunter ship on her long-range sensors."

"Oh, for…" John rolled his eyes, and Vala could echo the sentiment. "Would they _please_ just take a number! _One_ problem at a time!" he muttered to himself, and again she was in complete agreement. "On the way, Pilot," he replied out loud, then directed a warning look towards her. "This discussion isn't over."

"Of course not, darling" she lied with a smile. "Now, I'll just go…"

…_and search for alternative means of transportation_, she finished in her mind. She could tell her little game was about to be discovered and wished to be at a safe distance when that happened. With a mental smirk, Vala noted that she had yet to board a ship and not steal _at least_ a shuttle or an escape pod. Well, the crew of Moya could consider themselves lucky—at least they got to keep their ship, while Vala would just requisition a pod in the general chaos, and slip away unnoticed…

"You're not going anywhere." John was still giving her the same thoughtful look. Finally, he nodded towards one of the corridors. "Come on, since the DRD is gone, I'll show you the way to command," he joked, although the smile did not quite reach his eyes.

Vala's eyes widened slightly. _That_ could be a problem.

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"Problem' might have been an understatement.

Five different aliens in five different colors and five different sizes were nothing Vala hadn't seen before. Being on a ship chased by bounty hunters was no news to her, either. Nor was staring down the wrong end of a gun, really. But as she found herself pinned against the wall, Crichton's weapon trained on her (the expression on his face would have sent Anubis crawling under the nearest table), Vala silently admitted that things could have gone better for her.

"Who. Are. You." John asked her again, and she gave him a guarded gaze.

"Crichton, what do you think you're doing?" came Rygel's voice, his tone a combination of alarm and slight boredom, and the small alien floated warily away from the two of them.

"Crichton!" D'Argo also called from behind.

"He's gone completely fahrbot!"

But Vala had a feeling that all their indignation wouldn't move John to lower his weapon. Ever since he had caught her asking the little robot for the way to command, he'd been hammering her with inquiries and strange looks. Still, she had somehow managed to dodge them all, until they'd arrived on the command deck of Moya…

"_We're here, what's the story with our friends outside?"_

"_They are headed straight for us, and will be within weapons range in little more than an arn."_

Whatever an "arn" was, Vala had known by the other's expressions that it was not long. Then the crew had tried to decide on a strategy, and she could have sworn she had never seen such anarchy on _any_ ship she'd been on—she'd seen rebelling Jaffa handle things more calmly and quietly than those four.

"_Crichton, you farhbot, this is all _your_ fault—"_

"_Rygel, John could not have known the bounty hunters were—"_

_"Draz! Y'all ever get a break 'round here?"_

"_We _will_ starburst _now_!"_

"_Not until Moya is certain that there is no danger to her baby—"_

"—_you and your wormhole got us all—"_

"_Save it, Sparky, I'm not the only one here with a price on my head—"_

"_Pilot, that ship will blow us _and_ the baby to hezmana—"_

"—_by the _Goddess_—"_

"_Fa-pu-ta!"_

For the rest of her life, Vala would claim her judgment had been impaired by all the insanity on Moya's command. (None but the ones who had actually encountered the leviathan's motley crew readily believed that.) Half the words being flung around she did not understand. It did not help that the lighting began to fluctuate and low rumbles emitted from the bowels of the ship. To her untrained eye, everything was falling apart—she really had no way of knowing Crichton and his entourage functioned best under conditions of utter chaos. Hence, when John turned to her in the general madness, while D'Argo was busy growling at an indignant Rygel, with Zhaan acting as a mediator between the two of them and Chiana obviously enjoying the insanity, Vala was completely wrong-footed.

"_Aeryn, don't _you_ have anything to say?"_

"_Oh, you're really doing just fine without my input…"_

"_Humor me, won't you..."_

Oh, and Mitchell had apparently been rubbing off on her.

"_Well, _I_ think we should get the hell out of here before our friends out there catch up with us!"_

"_Get…_the hell_…out of here…"_

His eyes had narrowed as he repeated her words, and she _still_ hadn't caught on…trying to keep her voice above the insane cacophony was taxing and distracting, and the blue-tinted holographic image of the bounty hunter ship getting ever closer still flickered menacingly in front of her eyes.

"_Splendid idea, John, I _completely_ agree! So why don't you just tell the others—"_

"_Why don't _you_ tell them? After all, you _are_ the Captain…"_

…damn the man.

"_I am?? Oh, uh, I mean, of course, right."_

Needless to say, things had only gone downhill from there.

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Apparently, hearing her ask the DRD for directions had only vaguely triggered Crichton's alarm bells…it hadn't been until their subsequent conversation that he had become really suspicious. Vala rolled her eyes. _How_ was she supposed to know Aeryn would, in Crichton's exact words, "choke to death before calling him 'darling'"? How was she supposed to know _anything_? In retrospect, she admitted that trying to pass for Aeryn had conceivably not been her brightest plan.

Somehow, she was surprised they hadn't thrown her out the nearest airlock (or whatever passed for an airlock on Moya). Contemplating the bare walls of her prisoner cell, she pondered the change in her temporary shipmates. They'd been so kind and almost harmless until Crichton had cornered her into confessing the truth…

D'Argo sure hadn't taken her admission well. Vala wasn't afraid of dying—well, not _unreasonably_ afraid, of course if she could avoid it by any means imaginable she would—but his furious snarl had almost sent her into cardiac arrest. Apparently, Luxans didn't take kindly to deceit. He'd leapt towards her with a murderous expression, and John had probably been the only thing that had saved her from being ripped to shreds. And now here she was, in a lonely cell, contemplating probable life-expectancies. (It was a dour train of thought.)

Crichton appeared in the corridor outside her cell, and she quickly stood up.

"John, finally! I thought you were going to leave me here to starve!"

He leaned casually against the iron strips forming the door.

"Oh? And what exactly refuted that theory?"

She gave him a long look.

"Come, now, you wouldn't be here if you were planning to leave me to rot in this cell…!"

"You're right," he said, squaring his shoulders, all traces of lightness suddenly gone from his demeanor, "I'm not going to leave you to die on your own."

"See, I knew you—"

"I'm going to _help_ you," he cut her off with an icy glare, "unless you tell me what you did to Aeryn right _now_!"

Vala covered her face with her hands, and shook her head.

"How many times do I have to tell you, I haven't _done_ anything to her, I haven't even _seen_ her in my entire life—well," she amended, "I probably see her every time I look in the mirror, but I mean I never actually—"

"And you expect me to believe that?"

"It's the truth!" she cried exasperatedly. "I _don't_ know how I got here, I _don't_ know where Aeryn is, or who she is—other than your lover—"

"Just where did you get that from?"

She gave him her best give-me-a-break look.

"I may not know much about my whereabouts, but I'm an expert on se—"

"Ah-don't want to hear it!" John cut her off nervously. "We're getting off track here…"

Vala cocked her head, undisguised interest in her eyes.

"Humans really are very sensitive about their sex lives, aren't they?"

He rolled his eyes.

"Start your story again, and it better be the truth. Or next time, I'll let D'Argo ask you. _Nicely_."

As if on cue, the Luxan appeared next to him on the corridor. Vala arched an eyebrow. As far as interrogation techniques went, theirs was a pretty obvious one.

"Let me guess, good dog, bad dog?"

His scowl unwavering, D'Argo turned to Crichton with obvious confusion. Almost against himself, John laughed out loud.

"Cop," he corrected, "it's good cop, bad _cop_. An Earth saying," he explained to the Luxan, then turned back to Vala, "but trust me, this is more like…frying pan…" he pointed to himself, then indicated D'Argo: "supernova."

She nodded, thoroughly unintimidated.

"Alright, boys…here's my story…once upon a time, there was a little girl named—"

"Skip to the juicy part," John deadpanned.

"Why, John, I didn't know you wanted _that_ kind of stories…" she said saucily, "how…juicy…should I make it?"

He rolled his eyes.

"I liked you better when you pretended to be Aeryn."

**qpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqpqp**

**AN: Oh, a Vala-only chapter! So, what did you think? As always, you know I love to hear your thoughts and opinions:) so please take a second to drop me a line! **


	9. Intermission

**Intermission: Dust, Debris and Dialogues **

"What do you think, Colonel?"

Cam heaved a long sigh. What their world needed was not an Ancient superweapon, or mighty ships, or ultimate enlightenment. No, what they _really_ needed was a law forbidding people from traveling to and from alternate realities, dimensions, worlds, _whatever_. Honestly, trouble was _one_ thing they most certainly did _not_ need to import…there were endless reserves of it in their own universe!

"Never thought I'd say it, but I don't think this is one of Vala's pranks, Sir. She's telling the truth."

"Are you kidding?" Sam interjected, "she's not _telling_ anything. Am I the only one who thinks she's keeping us at arm's length here?"

"Indeed," Teal'c nodded, "I have also noticed that she has not volunteered any information."

"Well, who can blame her? I guess in her position, we'd play our cards close to our chests as well, " Cam pointed out.

"Agreed," Landry conceded, "but that doesn't give us a solution to this problem." He looked back towards the briefing room, where Daniel was trying to get some more information out of their unwitting guest. "Alright, SG1, your experience with this kind of situations exceeds anyone else's on this base. I think Dr. Jackson's standpoint on the issue is clear, so I want to hear your assessments as well." He looked from one to the other. "Is she a threat?"

Cam and Sam exchanged a glance, then they both looked towards Teal'c, silently consulting his opinion as well.

"I vote…innocent until proven guilty," Mitchell offered. "Chances are, this is just an accident and she wants to get home just as much as we want Vala back."

Landry moved his eyes to Teal'c, and the Jaffa frowned slightly.

"I recommend caution, although I perceive no apparent or immediate threat."

"Colonel?"

Sam glanced towards the meeting room.

"Well, Sir…Daniel seems to trust her. He wasn't wrong about Vala—"

"Much," Cam interjected with an amused huff, but she chose to ignore him.

"—and although she's not giving us much to work on, I think she's not here on purpose. So…maybe we can work with her to sort this out."

Landry nodded.

"Alright, your recommendation is noted. Now let's get back there and see if we can get our visitor to shed some light on this mess."

* * *

He missed the easy days, when his only concern was whether or not his shuttle would burst into flames on take-off, or--and how hilarious he now found it!--whether the government would reduce funding on the _Farscape_ project. He almost laughed out loud upon recalling how he used to consider a couple thousand miles to be a problem in a relationship. Or how he'd gotten so mad when someone had scratched his car about two years back. 

Being on Moya, chased by the insane Crais, living with aliens of four different species…and Aeryn…well, _that_ had certainly changed his views. If he ever returned to Earth, John doubted that a _cannonball_ exploding behind him would even put him off—as long as he could dust himself off and walk away relatively unscathed. As for relationships, well, he had certainly learnt to be very open-minded in that area. Natural consequence of having a plant for a shipmate, a thieving ex-emperor who farted helium and a huge alien who sometimes spent days hunting you down in an access of hyper rage. And Aeryn.

His somewhat amused train of thought suddenly turned grimmer as he considered Vala's—if that was even her real name!—story. It was plausible, that much he'd give her…but it was no help in getting Aeryn back. He couldn't help wondering if the Sebacean had ended up in Vala's place…on Earth. Fate sure had a cruel way of pulling pranks…he's looked for the wormhole precisely to get to his home planet, and Aeryn might have taken the ride instead. He'd never hear the end of it when she returned.

_When_ she returned. There were no _ifs_ in his equation.

"How nice of you to drop by…a girl can use some company…"

With a sigh, he stopped by Vala's cell, taking a look inside. She was propped on top of the small cot, legs dangling to a side, looking like a mischievous schoolgirl. John groaned inwardly—he had almost no idea what to make of their uninvited guest, she was about as predictable as a swarm of fireflies in a house of mirrors.

"Okay, Dorothy, let's hear again how _exactly_ you got here—" Before he could finish his thought, he heard a series of explosions, and the floor trembled slightly beneath his feet. "You always got this kind of timing working for you?" he jestingly asked her, then hit the comms without waiting for an answer. "Pilot, what was that?"

"The bounty hunter ship has entered firing range. The asteroid field we are using to hide is not large enough to prevent them from detecting _or_ targeting us."

"_What_?" Crichton shook his head, blinking rapidly. "I thought you said dust and debris would interfere with their scanners and targeting systems, Pilot…"

"I said it _might_, Commander," the alien pointed out.

"'_Might'_ usually works for us."

"Today, it obviously does not," Pilot calmly remarked. "Their ship is considerably smaller and more maneuverable than Moya. If they are to follow us into the asteroid field, they will have the advantage."

John heaved an exasperated sigh. Things were _never_ easy.

"Thank you, Pilot…"

"_Soo_…" He'd almost forgotten about Vala, until she spoke again. She bounced down from the bed, giving him an anxious look, "Care to tell me why these bounty hunters are after you?"

"Why, think you can cut a deal with them? The enemy of my enemy, that kind of thing? I gotta tell you," he added with a falsely benevolent tone, "they probably don't like Aeryn much, either."

"I'm not your enemy, Crichton," Vala argued in a tired voice, then shrugged. "I rather like you, actually. All of you."

"I'm touched," he deadpanned.

The ship jolted for a second time, causing them both to lose balance.

"I'd say we're past the warning phase," she commented. "So why are they firing on us?"

"You don't really have to know."

He was actually amused to hear the indignation in her tone.

"I'm on this ship too, you know, John! I'd like to at least _know_ why I'm about to be blown to pieces!"

"Suffices to say, there's a madman out there, with a crazy personal vendetta against me."

"Willing to pay a great deal of money for your head on a platter?" she asked with a smirk. Maybe their worlds weren't so different, after all. "So why is he after Aeryn?" she continued with the inquiry, only to receive a nice-try look in return.

"So you can use that against us?" John arched his eyebrows, slowly shaking his head. "I don't think so."

Vala huffed crossly.

"Honestly, one _little_ white lie and all of a sudden everything that comes out of my mouth is deceit??"

Seeing John actually laugh out loud did not appease her indignation.

"Did you ever hear of the boy who cried 'wolf'?" he asked, and was somewhat surprised to see her grimace in recognition.

"Yes, Daniel told me that story once. _What_?" she demanded, as he cocked an ironic eyebrow. Another salvo shook the ship, but this time Vala was safely seated on the bed, hanging on for balance.

"See you later," John replied, turning on his heels and running up the corridor, "if we're still here, that is."

**

* * *

**

If the Earth's greatest fault was having sent John Crichton and his frelling malfunctioning module out into the defenseless universe, the planet's greatest merit was, also beyond a shadow of a doubt, mint-flavored dark chocolate.

Finishing the last piece, Aeryn sighed contentedly, nodded her short thanks at Daniel for providing the snack, and watched with interest as the others walked back into the room. Time for some more 'briefing'—although, she thought, the term was poorly chosen, as the discussions so far had been anything but brief. Humans did too much talking. But at least the headache of the last arns was finally receding.

She'd almost regretted coming clean about her identity when the same people who'd treated her in such a relaxed manner seconds before had grown suddenly wary—but she could understand that all too well. Aside from her basic mistrust, that she knew would not go away, she'd come to believe those people truly were who they said they were. And to their credit, they'd taken the news well.

On the other hand, Daniel had warned that it wasn't their first time dealing with accidental traveling across the galaxies. Or with displaced aliens, possessed teammates, clones, people coming back from the death, doubles of themselves, bio-robots…

And she'd though it was Crichton's fault that he was a magnet for trouble. But apparently, it was a distinctive trait of his entire species. Aeryn hoped their track record wasn't foreshadowing Crichton's next adventures. If so, she wondered if returning to Moya really was the wisest choice.

Not that she was going anywhere for the moment. Seated at a metal table in a place they called the "meeting room", she was the centre of attention of five pairs of alert eyes.

"So…Ms. Sun…" the man she'd come to identify as 'General Landry' asked, "is what Dr. Jackson is telling us true?"

"A somewhat confused version," she mentioned with a sidelong glance at Daniel, "but essentially correct."

After 'Mitchell' had found them, Daniel had led them to the general in charge of the base, and had explained how they'd come to be in the locked storage room. She was still slightly surprised at their trusting treatment of strangers: on the command carrier—or even on Moya, the first stop for someone in her position would have probably been the brig. Instead, the humans were treating her like some kind of guest, and seemed to believe she posed no threat (she still wasn't sure whether she felt flattered or insulted by that).

"And you have _no_ idea how you came to be here?" She knew the woman from earlier as Colonel Carter, and did not appreciate the somewhat doubtful undertone in her question. On the other hand, it was warranted, as Aeryn had mentioned virtually nothing prior to her arrival on their world.

"I told you, I don't know what happened. I did not touch any devices like the one you described. Besides, isn't it obvious that it was your interdimensional bridge that caused all this?"

"Colonel Carter," Landry turned to her, "could this have been a result of the earlier accident?"

"Well…" she hesitated for a moment. "I'm…not sure, Sir. In theory, it's possible, _but_", she added quickly, "the bridge was clearly designed as an experiment and was not connected to any energy source that could have allowed this kind of phenomenon!"

Aeryn arched an eyebrow.

"Well,_ I'm_ here, so it obviously allowed it."

"See, that's why I think something on your side must've somehow triggered it…" Sam gave her a meaningful look. "Are you _sure_ there was no superior energy source, no strange discharge…_anything_ that could explain this?"

Aeryn bit her lower lip, fixing them with a long stare. Finally she let out a long-suffering sigh, and shook her head with a small groan.

"Oh, Crichton, you frellwit."

She could virtually _see_ their attention spike.

"There might have been an…_unusual_ energy discharge."

**

* * *

**

**A/N: So, the Hyundai—erm, bounty hunter ship, finally caught up with Moya, and Aeryn just threw a quantum physics/wormhole problem into Sam's lap. That successfully concludes the intermission, now on to the action that I hope you've been anticipating:)! As always, I would love to hear your thoughts on this chapter. Thank you for reading! **

**Hugs:)**


	10. Out of the Frying Pan

**AN: If you're reading this, it must mean you're still following my story (I do love you!), so here are two short messages: **

**1) thank you for staying with the story this far! It's wonderful to know I've still got readers after all this time (and I'm very grateful...)**

**2) I'm sorry for the unreasonably long update time. I blame 10 percent of it on the makers of my computer—they don't make'em like they used to... (the remaining 90 percent was probably user error, though)**

**Yes, my computer crashed a while ago, and I lost ALL my work, including what would have been the final two or three chapters of this story, and a lot of chapters around the middle. About 40 pages or so in total, which made me, for a while, consider not resuming the story , but in the end, I think I owe the rest of it to everyone who is still reading:). **

**So, thank you again for making it this far, now on to the next chapter! **

**Getaway: Out of the Frying Pan…**

_**Now…**_

"_You have the human Crichton with you! I order you to bring him to me! Full pardon, Officer Sun!" _

Inside the drifting Prowler, Vala propped her elbows on the command panel, and stared out at the murky asteroid field. She couldn't see anything that happened outside the cloud of dust and debris, but hoped Moya had managed to escape. From what she had found out from the others, she suspected Crais wouldn't risk chasing the ship if it meant allowing the Prowler to get away.

"_You have played the game shrewdly, Officer Sun…now we both know all too well how it would benefit you to break this…attachment."_

She grinned as the man's voice resounded in the small cabin once more, and replied in a playful drawl.

"I don't know…there's some attachments you can't break that easily…"

"_Bring my brother's murderer to me_! Bring him to me, or you will die with him!"

"You will have noticed by now that you cannot get to us in that big ship," she mocked. "Oh, I know what you're thinking, we'll have to leave the asteroid field eventually…but 'the human' and I are quite capable of…_entertaining_ each other…for a considerable period of time. _Sir_," Vala finished with great irony, as the channel went dead.

* * *

_**2 arns before…**_

Bright, hot sparks flew as the welding tool caught the end of another ruptured duct, and D'Argo checked the power setting for the tenth time. It was at maximum: he could go no faster. Glaring at the shapeless mound of cables around him, he spared some very unflattering thoughts in Vala's direction. If she hadn't tried to fix the tertiary sacral plexus with no idea of what she was doing, Moya wouldn't have needed additional repairs, and they wouldn't be taking fire from bounty hunters bent on crippling the leviathan and capturing its crew. D'Argo swore that, once they got out alive, he would personally strangle the impostor who had so effortlessly tricked them all.

"Hezmana!"

DRDs swarmed in the small room, and one had accidentally run into his foot. They were dealing with the lower-level repairs, while he worked on the ones that required intuition and higher skills. Once again he wished Aeryn had been there—best friends they were most certainly not, but the Sebacean knew her way around Moya's systems, and together they could have gotten the job done three times as fast. Almost against himself, he wondered what had happened to her, and decided he would get her back, and if someone had harmed her—the first creeps of the infamous Luxan rage stung at the back of his mind—he would set on a quest for revenge, making sure that the guilty parties would wish they—

"D'Argo, how's it going?"

He let out a disgruntled growl.

"It would go much faster if you didn't bother me every three microts, Crichton."

"Yeah, listen, the asteroid field isn't working that well, so it's time for plan B. We need a diversion. Any suggestions?"

"None you would wish to hear," the Luxan muttered back.

* * *

As the shock from another salvo threw her violently against the wall, Vala cried out in frustration. She'd flown derelict hang gliders with better defense capabilities! 

"Who built this thing!" she shouted to the empty walls of her cell. "Doesn't this ship have defenses? It should have a shield! It should have weapons!"

"Moya is more than a 'ship'," Pilot's almost indignant voice resounded in the room. "She is a leviathan, a _living_ being—"

"Alright, then it should have a _brain_!" Vala shook the iron straps forming the cell door. "We're getting our asses kicked here, why doesn't _Moya_ do something?"

A low growl vibrated through the walls, and Vala froze on the spot, looking around in cautious fascination. For the first time, Pilot's words fully registered on her: a _living_ being… A second, long whirr rumbled beneath her feet, making her jump slightly. Slowly, she put a hand on one of the walls, barely touching it with the tips of her fingers. It felt cold, lifeless, yet there was a faint buzz running through it, and Vala couldn't hold back a warm smile.

"Moya…"

She recalled bits from earlier conversations among her unwitting shipmates. How could she have missed such a monumental discovery? Almost against herself, she felt excitement welling up within her. For a moment, all the noises and shocks from the outside attack died down, as she slowly traced her hand down the cold metal wall, thrilled and absorbed by the strange contact.

"Hello…" she murmured. Abruptly, the muted sounds of the outside world exploded into existence as a series of small explosions impacted Moya's outer hull; Vala looked upwards, raising her voice. "Are you going to let them get us…get your baby…?" She felt the air around her alive with tension, and turned on the spot, unsure of how to address Moya. "Listen to me…I don't know much about you. I've never heard of a living ship in my entire life, and can't even begin to imagine how you could have a _baby_…" She closed her eyes, inhaling slowly. "But for some reason, I feel as though I've been where you are now…and I want you to trust me when I say…" she opened her eyes again, her voice loud and firm, "I do _not_ mean you _or_ your crew any harm. I just want to get home…"

She smiled as she spoke the words. _Home_. It had a nice ring to it.

"And meanwhile, I can _help_. Really, I'm the one to call when it comes to wriggling out of these tight spots! I've got a lot of experience with bounty hunters! I come _very_ highly recommended, you should know I've escaped at least thirty by now—or is it forty?"

Feeling slightly ridiculous as she spoke to the thin air, Vala ceased her lively rattle. There were no more rumbles coming from the bowels of the ship, nor did Pilot say anything else. For one second, she wondered if anyone had actually listened to her, then she felt it again, the faint pulse of life everywhere around her, and knew she had not wasted her breath.

"Maybe I can help. Maybe not...but at least we'll know we've tried all the options."

She waited for one long moment, and nothing happened. No more noises, other than the sporadic weapon fire outside the ship, and no sign that her argument had been heard. With a sigh, she let herself slide down the nearest wall, shoulders slumping in defeat and frustration; ever since her time as a host, helplessness and inactivity had been what she hated most. Trapped in that cursed cell, she could do nothing. Nothing! She clenched her fists, mind already racing to find a new way out.

And the iron bands that trapped her suddenly parted, leaving a clear path to the deserted corridor.

With a winning smile, she jumped to her feet.

"Sam was right. Nothing works like talking to the manager," she muttered to herself, then hurried out the door.

* * *

"_We need a diversion." _

John's words floated to her in the corridor, and Vala picked up the pace, stopping in the entrance to Moya's command.

"Lucky you have me, then. I'm an _expert_ at diversions!"

John's expression was remarkably similar to the one Mitchell had worn when he had seen her emerge dressed as Qetesh, in the Goa'uld's temple.

* * *

_**One arn before…**_

She couldn't believe it. Simmering with annoyance, Vala loudly drummed her fingers on one of the consoles, earning herself a glare from John. The moment she opened her mouth to speak, however, he turned away from her and began talking to the others again. She simply couldn't believe she was being so utterly ignored.

"_Fine, just take a seat, keep your hands where I can see them and enjoy the ride."_

The arrogance of the man!

"_They're trying to cripple Moya. We'll be sitting ducks if she can't starburst."_

Indignation rose within her at the thought of Moya, a being so extraordinary, so special, being hunted and hurt.

Then they had come up with an idea.

"_The Prowler could get their attention enough for D'Argo to finish the repairs."_

For some reason, that had earner _her_ three wary glances, and Vala could not begin to fathom why.

"_There is no one to fly the Prowler, John."_

"_I'll do it…I'll fly it."_

"_Haaa! I wouldn't want to be anywhere in this _solar system_ when the human flies the Prowler!"_

"_Got any better ideas, Sparky?"_

That had been the first time she had tried to talk to them, but they were too caught up in the discussion. The only one who actually ever caught her eye was the grey chick--Chiana, Vala remembered--who was apparently her counterpart in the motley crew, in that no one seemed to listen to her. Yet instead of frustrated, Chiana seemed amused and vaguely fascinated by the heated exchange from which they were both being excluded.

"_John…you cannot maneuver Aeryn's Prowler."_

"_Hey, I can steer clear of the asteroids, do a little dance to get our friends' attention and that's enough!"_

"_Commander, Moya and I appreciate the suggestion, but feel it would be…unwise to test your skills under these circumstances."_

"_Pilot, we're taking fire and Crais' command carrier is probably on the way. Rock, hard place, _us_. Desperate times…unless you have another idea?"_

She'd told them again, and was again ignored. Frustrated, she had sat up, hoping to draw their attention, but to no avail.

"_D'Argo can fly it, then! Zhaan, you and I can take care of the repairs! Pilot can—"_

"_It will take much more time, John…and if they truly transmitted our position to Crais, we don't have that time."_

Vala rolled her eyes, and straightened her shoulders with renewed determination. How history tended to repeat itself…hopefully, things would turn out better than last time. On the other hand, she was already in a completely foreign world, pursued by bounty hunters and with no possibility of returning home…how much worse could they turn? With that thought in mind, she swiveled on her heels, and left the room as discreetly as she could.

* * *

"There's enough time for you to complete the repairs. I'll fly the Prowler." 

"Ka D'Argo, I am afraid that is impossible. Officer Sun's Prowler has just left Moya."

"I tried to tell you..." Chiana muttered with a small, self-satisfied grin.

"_What_!" the Luxan's growl lost none of its fierceness over the comm link. "Who's flying it, Pilot!"

"I'd say that's obvious," Rygel piped in. "Obviously the only one on this ship with an instinct of preservation I can admire…"

"Too bad she didn't take you with him, then," D'Argo's voice barked again. "Then the bounty hunters would destroy you both—"

"Does your thick Luxan hide not feel the ongoing attack on Moya, you _fahrbot_! The bounty hunters will destroy us long before they even notice the Prowler!"

"Can you contact her, Pilot?" Zhaan asked, trying to defuse the mounting tension.

"See, moments like this I _wish_ we had cannons!" Crichton said angrily, just as D'Argo marched into command.

"Yes, commander, that would surely help us in this battle."

"Who said anything about the battle," John spoke heatedly, "it's _her_ I want to blow out of the sky!" He glared at Chiana's amused giggle, and furiously placed his palms onto one of the consoles. "Well, _can_ you contact her, Pilot?"

"I am trying to. Communications seem to be working…"

"Vala, what do you think you're doing?"

"_You can…thank me…later,"_ came her voice through some static.

"Get back to Moya right now!" Crichton ordered.

The channel carried back her disdainful huff.

"_Honestly, John…quieter out here, thank you very much."_

"Vala, that ship is going to _fire_ on you, and…you can't even fly the Prowler!"

"…_surprised…how quickly I learn…"_ came her fragmented answer again. "_You said…needed a diversion…stop complaining!"_

John heaved out a frustrated sigh.

"See Pilot, _that's_ why she was locked in that cell!"

* * *

_**Half an arn before…**_

"Commander! Moya's long-range sensors have detected Crais' command carrier heading this way!"

"Great, the mad hatter's coming to join our tea party…" Crichton muttered, fighting a strong impulse to bang his head against one of the command consoles. "Pilot, can Moya starburst yet?"

"Since Vala engaged the bounty hunters, we have taken no more hits, and Ka D'Argo informs me the repairs are complete. Moya has agreed to starburst as soon as needed."

"Well how nice of'er!" Chiana piped, "so what'are we waitin' for, the farewell party?"

"Let's get the _juxt_ out of here!"

"Not so fast, Sparky. Pilot, can we get through to the Prowler?"

"There is some of interference from the asteroid field," came the answer, "but communications seem to be working."

John looked out the window to the drifting asteroids, almost expecting to see the two ships firing on each other like in some second-rate science action game. Instead, there was only the quiet, murky field and the distant lights of thousands of stars.

"Vala, there's one very big, very bad ship headed our way, now I suggest you stop playing tag with our friends out there and get back to Moya!"

"_Got it,_" came her slightly scrambled voice. "_I'm looking at a hero's welcome, right, Crichton?_"

He rolled his eyes.

"I'll do my best to keep D'Argo from mauling you."

"_You know just how to make a girl feel good_."

"Just get back here already."

If Moya had detected the command carrier, he imagined Crais had detected them, as well—not that he needed to, since the bounty hunters had probably sent their coordinates, anyway. John could picture the expression of blood-thirsty anticipation on the Peacekeeper captain's face; he felt a small degree of excitement at the thought of foiling Crais once more. With Moya ready to starburst again and the little head start they had, he hoped they could outrun the command carrier at least for a little while, and they'd just have to come up with something else in the meantime. One way or another, they'd get away in one piece.

Except, things were never that easy.

"_John, I've got a little problem here_."

He groaned, and Zhaan gave him a sympathetic look, completely echoing the sentiment if not the form of expression.

"What is it, Vala?" she asked calmly.

"_They won't let me get back. They keep cutting my path every time I plug in a trajectory vector towards Moya._"

"Ha! Of course they do, if they give a garanta's brax about their sorry lives! Crais'll blow _them_ to pieces if they don't deliver something!"

"Fly through them!" D'Argo snarled, having just marched into command. "They'll move out of the way."

"Game of chicken won't work," John shook his head, "they've got the bigger guns, they'll get her if she flies straight for more than a few seconds."

"Pilot, can Moya maneuver to come between the Prowler and the other ship?" Zhaan inquired with a preoccupied glance to the space outside.

"They are both too far into the field to allow for any precise maneuvers." Pilot paused for a moment, almost reluctant to continue, then dutifully announced them. "The command carrier will be in firing range in about eight hundred microts."

A tense silence fell over them, punctuated only by the occasional static cracks from the communication channel.

"_And here I was hoping to improve my poor record of successful rescue missions…_ " Vala laughed quietly.

* * *

_**Now…**_

Despite being so small, the cabin was remarkably cold, and Vala wished she hadn't turned all systems to minimum. But the others had instructed her to do so in order to avoid Crais's scanners; she just hoped it would be enough to keep her hidden until they came back to get her. Much to her surprise, it had taken a lot of arguing to get them to leave, and she still half-wondered if Moya hadn't left on her own, wishing—like any mother would—to protect her baby. Either way, every single person she knew in the universe, literally, was now light-years away, and she had been left alone, clueless and cold in the cramped Prowler.

She _really_ needed to improve her record of successful missions.

With a self-deprecating huff, she noted that her gung-ho actions actually _did_ tend to be beneficial, just not for her own well-being. Which, Vala reckoned, was really how the success of a mission should be measured. Still, at least Moya had gotten away (and would hopefully make an SG1-worhty return to get _her_ out, too), and she had had a lot of fun playing Crais. The thought of their conversation brought a wicked grin to her lips.

"Mmm, let's just hope I pushed his right buttons…"

She pictured Crichton's face if he'd heard her declare that they could entertain each other while hiding in the field. But her grin slowly vanished, as the silence in the Prowler became heavier. Watching the dark immensity of space, she wondered how long she could hold out hiding among the asteroids. She certainly hoped it would be longer than it took the crew of Moya to come up with a plan for her rescue.

* * *

**AN: You know how much I love hearing from you. So please send me your thoughts, comments, questions and advice on most resilient PC brands/types! Thanks! **


	11. Best Laid Plans, pt 1

**A.N: Thanks everyone who read the last chapter:) and of course double thanks to those of you who reviewed! **

**Some of the previous chapters have been edited! So, if at some point in this chapter you find _something_ you thought didn't belong to this story…well…read again /**_grins_**/ You'll see what I mean...**

**Best Laid Plans, pt. 1: On to Something**

Aeryn stared at the odd blue gelatin in the plastic cup, and gave it a tentative nudge with the tip of her spoon. It trembled slightly, vaguely reminding her of the viscous dampening fluid that ran through some of Moya's ducts. One of those ducts had ruptured once, drenching her head to toe in the gooey dren, much to D'Argo's endless amusement. As the unpleasant memory flashed in her mind, she was surprised to find a strange pang somewhere in the pit her stomach.

A knock on the door interrupted her before she could dwell on the peculiar sensation.

"Come."

She was not surprised to see Daniel walk in, his expression a mix of sympathy and business. She'd been spending most of her time on Earth in Carter's lab, poring over the device that had apparently brought her there, but Daniel had always been close by. Aeryn imagined it was the humans' deep-seated need for compassion or whatever they called it, and she often fought the impulse to roll her eyes each time they gave her one of those small encouraging smiles. Yet in the long hours she spent alone in the guest quarters they had assigned her, the thought of their supportiveness—ridiculous and pampering and inefficient as it was—often drove away the darker musings of her anxious mind.

"How are you holding up?"

Then again, sometimes all the concern was plain irritating.

"Stop asking me that," she replied with a displeased grimace. "I don't know what you mean, since I'm neither in pain nor in any other kind of distress—"

"No," Daniel nodded slowly, "you're just in a parallel universe, stranded on an alien planet…"

"I was born on a ship, _all_ planets are alien to me, Daniel."

The revelation shut him up for a second, while he digested the news.

"Oh…" He raised his eyebrows with some surprise. "Okay, well, I'm sure you're looking forward to go back to whatever place you call home…"

She lowered her eyes for a second, staring at the edge of the plastic cup. Images of the Peacekeeper command carrier flashed through her mind, followed by memories of her time on Moya. 'Home' was not made for her, Aeryn thought, and she was not made to have a home.

"Anyway…" Daniel broke the silence after a long moment, "I'm here with good news. Sam thinks she might be on to something."

Home was not made for her, Aeryn had to repeat to herself, because her stomach had just jolted strangely at the man's hope-filled words.

* * *

_"Okay, D'Argo, we have to go back for her!"_

_"She's most likely dead by now!"_

_"No, she's not, and if we can't get to her we might never get Aeryn back!"_

_"Crichton, I don't know why you're so bent on suicide—"_

_"She would've done it for you, you know. Aeryn, I mean." _

_"Do you have a plan?"_

_"_Yes_, I have a plan! We…we go back, make sure they don't see us, sneak on board, get Vala, sneak out and starburst the heck away from here! How's that?"_

_"It's the _stupidest_ plan I ever heard. But one of _your_ best yet."_

In a gesture he had often noticed in his father, John rubbed his throbbing temples, wishing he could filter out the incessant bickering that filled the room. With every second that passed, their chances of getting Vala back dimmed, and so did his hopes of seeing Aeryn again. Without Vala, they might never find out what had really happened, nor could they reverse whatever accident had caused the two women to somehow switch places.

"_We're no match for the command carrier! I'm not saying we should give up, but Moya won't survive an encounter with Crais's ship and neither will we!"_

_"We did promise Vala we would come back for her."_

_"No, Zhaan, _Crichton_ promised that. _We_ know better than to fly back into the budong's jaws when we barely made it out the first time!"_

_"We must not abandon hope, D'Argo, the Goddess is with us."_

_"Get it through your thick blue head, no frelling goddess is going to help us if we go back there!"_

Crichton suddenly banged his fist down on the table, causing all of them to turn to him. He had no clear idea of what he was going to say, but he knew it would be angry, harsh and probably insane, but that seemed to be the rule for any discussion among Moya's crew, anyway. Before he could open his mouth, however, another voice interrupted his thought.

"I know y'all keep saying I don't get a vote, but I wanna earn my keep aboard this boat…and I've an idea," Chiana finished in a husky tone, leaning over the table to give him a long, keen look.

* * *

"Will this gizmo work?" 

"We're about to see, I guess."

Sam maneuvered the power settings and entered some commands into one of the computers connected to the device. Next to her work table, the rest of SG1 and Aeryn were watching impatiently.

"How exactly is it supposed to work?" Cam asked again. Carter shot him an irritated look, and he shrugged innocently. "We don't all have Ph.D.s, Sam!"

She rolled her eyes, making a mental note to elbow him in the ribs later.

"I've modified the interdimensional bridge to allow for more energy to pass through. A radio signal should transmit clearly."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but shouldn't there be something on the other side to receive the radio signal?"

"Well, normally, yes," she nodded, slipping into science-professor mode, "but I've modified the frequency bands, trying to enhance the spectrum and reduce the signal distortion factors, so that—"

"Ph.D.s, Sam…" Mitchell intoned with a meaningful glance.

"—our voices should be carried through intact," she finished, cutting her explanation short.

"So you've made an interdimensional phone!"

Her eyes twinkled in amusement.

"I guess you can put it that way."

"So, how do we know what number to dial?" Daniel asked with a frown. "Out of the billions of universes out there…"

Sam grimaced.

"Yeah…we'll have to take a leap of faith here. I've set the device to check for distortion patterns in the energy readings. I'm thinking Aeryn and Vala's switch must've left some prints in the interdimensional tunnel, and by analyzing the period and frequency of—" She caught Mitchell's eye, and stopped in mid-sentence. "Right, err, I've also set it to scan for naquadah traces in the connection passage, in case the first theory doesn't work…"

"In other words, this is just speculation and we've no way of knowing if the passage will open up in the right place," Daniel said with concern.

"Or at all. I'm sorry," Sam offered, "but it's the best I can do…in theory, it should create a interdimensional passage to Vala's current position…and we'll have to work it from there."

"It should be enough to contact Moya," Aeryn put in, "and arrange to recreate the conditions that caused this…accident…in the first place."

"So we'll just have to cross our fingers," Cam concluded, then turned to Aeryn. "Okay E.T, let's see you call home."

* * *

**A.N: And **_**that's**_** why I had to slightly edit the story. No one else would come up with a plan for Vala's rescue! This also changes the 'Farscape' timeline of this story to anywhere between 'Durka Returns' and 'A Bug's Life'. (further notes about the edit might follow if anyone points them out! You know my caveat about the 'Farscape' universe—although I **_**have**_** been watching a lot more episodes, and still loving them of course.)**

**Don't forget to let me know what you think! Your opinions and comments are always appreciated! **

**--livestar--**


	12. Best Laid Plans, pt 2

**AN: Thanks everyone for your sweet comments! And don't worry: slowly but surely, this story goes on...**

**Best Laid Plans, pt 2: One of Those Days**

Vast deserts covered the planet below, giving it a pale orange, sickly glow as the sunrays reflected off the hot sand. According to Pilot, the barely adequate living conditions had discouraged settlers for centuries, but attracted instead all sorts of individuals in search of privacy and discretion.

And with the need for secrecy came the need for big guns to ensure that secrecy; apparently, this planet had done particularly well on that chapter. Moya hung silently in orbit, surrounded by ominous looking cannon-like ships, part of what Chiana had described as 'the draddest planetary defense system' in their corner of the galaxy.

As he entered Moya's hangar, John could only hope whoever controlled that system wouldn't test it on them.

He caught Rygel's eye, and the Hynerian swiveled in his floating throne to mutter another long string of protests, before being unceremoniously kicked inside the transport pod by D'Argo. The Luxan followed him in, lowering his head ever-so-slightly to enter the pod, and Crichton took a moment to make sure everyone was out of earshot before turning to Chiana with a firm glare.

"Alright, Pip, here's the deal: everything goes according to plan, we all fly out of here in one piece and with the satisfaction of having given Crais at least a burst vein. Otherwise, if it all goes to pot because you brought us here to trick us, use us, work us, sell us, freaking _eat_ us—"

"Blez out, Crichton, I'm not Rygel," she hissed back, drawing up to him until the top of her hair almost touched his chin. "Everything'll work out _fan-tas-tic_…" she drawled huskily, then winked and slid towards the entrance to the transport pod, leaving John behind shaking his head with a foreboding sense of doom.

"Alright people," he muttered as he followed her into the pod, "time for this balloon to go up." He sighed at the sight of their blank expressions. "Nevermind."

* * *

_About an arn later…_

The cooling earthen walls trembled slightly as D'Argo's fearsome growl resounded in the small hut, and a few spider-like bugs fell from the low ceiling.

"I will _not_ be locked up," he roared, glaring menacingly at the mercenary leader that Chiana claimed was her 'friend, sort of'. "You'll find someone else to go along with this _ridiculous_ plan!"

"I thought you wanted our help, Chiana." The mercenary gave her a questioning look from beneath his dark eyebrows.

"_Help_? Two crates of nogelti crystals for your frelling help! You're robbing us clean, you son of a hazmot!" Rygel croaked angrily.

The mercenary's golden-brown eyes sparkled with cold amusement, and Chiana grimaced unhappily.

"Excuse us for a moment, Preyal," she purred with a sly grin, and the man nodded silently, vacating the hut with one last wary glance towards the furious Luxan. Once he had left, Chiana turned to the others. "I thought you wanted a good rescue plan," she told them with an indifferent shrug.

"Rescue plan? You're just trying to rip us off, you little malik!"

"Listen, toad, I ain't tryin' to cheat anyone—" she poked him angrily with a finger, and he forcefully batted her finger away with his little hands, snarling disdainfully.

"Alright, let's calm down for a sec," Crichton stopped pacing the confined shed and turned to them. "We haven't come all this way for nothing, and we're running out of _time_. Crais won't keep Vala alive for ever, and frankly this guy's idea is the best we've got yet!"

"It's _all_ you've got," Chiana murmured just loud enough for everyone to hear. "Look," she continued on an almost reassuring tone, "Preyal's not into charity, but pay him the good money and he'll stick to the deal! He'll get you onto the ship, Crichton'll do his thing and everything'll be dag-yo!" she finished with a wink.

John gave the others a hopeful look.

"I am _not_ allowing anyone to lock me up!"

"I am _not_ giving up a single crystal!"

Crichton's chin dropped to his chest in exasperation. He steeled himself for a long, _long_ day.

* * *

It had definitely been one of her longest days. Vala exhaled heavily, hissing at a sharp pang in her right side. Cracked rib, a sadly familiar sensation. Also tragically familiar were the exhaustion, hunger, discomfort, anxiety. The highlights of quality time spent in the captivity of an enemy. 

Of course, technically, Crais wasn't even her enemy, and still he demonstrated unusual imagination when it came to prisoner treatment.

The command carrier had surprised her by opening fire on the asteroid field, systematically destroying rock after lifeless rock, and making her hiding place increasingly tighter. She'd tried to maneuver the Prowler among the debris, hoping it wouldn't be detected—but the damn ship seemed to fight her at every step! Half the commands required an access code, and the ones that didn't were so alien to her that's she had little option of mastering them other than by trial and error.

The 'error' part had delivered her straight into their waiting arms.

It had taken Crais about ten seconds to discover her deceit, as she was the only one aboard the Prowler. They hadn't been too happy about it. And so, some long, torturous hours later, she'd ended up in this dark room, battered and bruised and swearing she'd drop space-fare and take up cooking (but unfortunately the revelation had come a little late).

She lay down on the floor, trying to move as little as possible. Maybe every bone in her body didn't ache, but a fair number of them did, and she couldn't as much as blink without biting back a muttered expletive. To think that, had the damn wormhole/gadget accident never happened, she'd probably be back at SGC, enjoying a chocolate fudge ice cream, bantering lightly with her teammates…

…well, either that or they'd all be fighting for their lives with some squadron of Ori soldiers, or perhaps bounty hunters, or angry villagers, or all three, and there'd be Sam, always calm and reasonable, and Daniel, pointedly rolling his eyes at her suggestions, and Teal'c, well, just being Teal'c, and Mitchell trying to push them all in the same direction, ready to chew them—

"_—okay—so is—thing working?—hey—Vala—there?_"

* * *

"So we just have to talk into the air?" 

Sam did not like the uncertainty any more than Cam did, but after a few days' work she had admitted that the communication device simply could not be any more precise. Such was the nature of interdimensional phones. Plugging the last two cables to the most powerful hard drive in her lab, she answered Mitchell's question.

"Pretty much. I've set it to carry our voices over intact…just stay in range." The readings showed everything ready to go. Arching her eyebrows in a ready-or-not fashion, she looked at the four people gathered around her unlikely contrivance. "Alright, cross your fingers everyone…"

"Just this once," Cam commented to lighten the tension, "you might try it too, Teal'c. We're going to need it."

With a small, amused smile, Sam nodded and keyed in the final commands.

"…I'm turning it on…now!"

The moment was surprisingly underwhelming for them all, save for Aeryn who had not been expecting any grand action from a tiny grey box built by humans.

After waiting for a moment, and seeing as no one broke the tense silence, Cam decided to exercise his role as team leader. Leaning warily towards the device, he shrugged and spoke loudly.

"Okay, so is this thing working? Hey, Vala…? Vala, are you there? Can you hear us?"

They waited for what seemed like an eternity, before a voice crackled, seemingly out of the blue.

"_…John…?_"

Aeryn arched an eyebrow.

* * *

**AN: Thank you for staying with the story! As always, feedback is welcome! (it might not keep me from succombing to the 100+ degrees outside, _but_ at least I'll be happy while I bake :-D**


	13. Two Cans and an Interdimensional String

**A/N: A very good question came up in a review recently: did Vala and Aeryn switch physically or mentally? I've been vacillating a bit on the answer, and changed my mind a couple of times. Here is the final version: Vala and Aeryn actually switched places _physically_. That's how Sam's interdimensional doo-hickey worked in 'Road Not Taken', and it works better for the purposes of this story. :) I'll be happy to explain the reasoning behind my version if anyone thinks it's less than plausible. Other questions, suggestions, comments are, of course, welcome!**

**Two Cans and an Interdimensional String**

"You lock that door, you fahrbot, and your mivonks will decorate my quarters on Moya!"

For the sake of good business, Preyal refrained from pointing out that, as Moya was currently being targeted by the planetary defense cannons, the existence of mentioned quarters was entirely at his mercy.

He could also have pointed out that the crew had _willingly_ come to him, that they had (eventually, after hours of infernal, profanity-filled negotiations) _agreed_ to the frelling plan (after discussing it forty times over), and that even his extraordinarily honed mercenary patience had almost reached its limit. He might also have informed the loose-tongued Hynerian that he had killed clients for being half that difficult.

Instead, he clenched his mouth shut and wheezed in furious exasperation. If it hadn't been for his and Chiana's long history of mutual help and trust (at least, to the degree to which trust was possible amongst their type), he would have long had the rude, raucous strangers transported back to the leviathan and sent on their way with a mild warning. Like cutting the little lizard's tongue off and sticking it up—

Preyal cut off that train of thought, uplifting though it was, and focused back on the plan at hand. It took a lot of mivonks to pull off, and that was part of why he had taken them on. After years of dangerous work and countless brushes with death after horribly unpleasant death, he had created a little underhanded haven for himself and his men; protected by the infallible planetary defenses, they could negotiate and operate freely with even the most ruthless of business partners. But Preyal missed the early days, when all he had was his cunning and his guts, no safety nets to buffer the danger.

Well, from what Chiana had told him of Captain Crais, Preyal had a feeling that this particular deal would be a lot trickier than the usual brush-off with a cutthroat drug lord (even, he hoped, trickier than the one time said dealer belonged to a carnivorous species, and a particularly vicious one, at that.)

The prospect of swindling a maniacal PK captain—and getting away with it!—exhilarated him.

The enthusiasm was slightly dampened by the annoying protests from the mock holding cell.

"Do you hear that? No measly thief will lock me up, or else I'll—"

"Rygel, you been hanging too much 'round D'Argo?" Idly scratching the back of his head, Crichton shrugged. "I wouldn't use the big words without the big guns to back'em up!"

"This is all _your_ fault!" Rygel croaked angrily from behind the bars. "You and the little tralk!"

John stopped in front of the cell.

"Look, Preyal's already sent the message to Crais. Right?" he looked to the mercenary leader for confirmation, and the man nodded. "He'll be en route to pick us up. So, all _we_ have to do is stick to the plan and we'll have the pleasure of giving the good captain the grief of his life. Drive him madder than he is! When he finds out he's been cheated, and we starburst right under his nose…"

"You are too trusting," D'Argo commented with disdain. He slid a hand between the bars, grabbing John by the front of his shirt. "If this goes badly Crichton, I will make sure you feel my _dissatisfaction_."

To drive the message home, he bared his teeth and growled menacingly. John only tilted his head and nodded at Rygel.

"See, now _that's_ how it's done, Sparky."

* * *

"Crichton??" 

Blinking a few times in utter confusion, Vala shook her head. While it did not clear her mind, the gesture certainly served to worsen the headache and the dull pounding in her ears. Then the voice came through once more, but she still could not locate its source.

"_Vala? Can you hear us?_"

Relief flooded through her. Maybe captain Crais's carrier wouldn't be her last stop, after all.

"John…?"

For a second, the cell was silent once more, and she feared she'd only imagined everything. But then the voice returned, this time carrying a faint ironic note.

"_This 'John' thing is getting old_."

Her eyes widened, as the meaning of the words slowly entered her mind. She tried to stand, muttering a curse as a sharp pain shot through her upper body. Her gaze frantically searched the dark cell.

"What…"

On the other side of the line, Cameron and Sam shared a serious glance. Something didn't sound right.

_"Vala, can you hear us? It's Mitchell."_

Vala almost smiled in relief before the ridicule of the situation struck her. With an almost violent shake of her head, she let out a muffled sound, something between a chuckle and a gasp. Trust her tired, overactive imagination to conjure voices out of thin air.

"There goes my chance of passing the next psychological evaluation…"

The humor in her whisper was skin-deep and bitter. In truth, she wished it actually _had_ been Mitchell talking to her. But how could it be real, how would they talk to her, how could they ever reach her, how—

"_Vala?_"

Her entire body froze.

"D-Daniel…?"

* * *

Daniel swallowed hard at the sound of her shaky voice. 

"Yeah, it's me, Vala…it's us."

He heard a sharp intake from her.

"_How…?_"

"I'm sure Sam'll be glad to give you the detailed description later," Mitchell cut in, "but right now let's focus on sorting out this little mess."

She tried to let out a disdainful snort, but it came out more as a feeble sniffle.

"_Little_?"

"Yeah, we've been through worse," he said confidently.

"Vala, are you alright?" Sam asked anxiously.

A short silence followed, and eventually her voice broke through again.

"_Uh, yeah._"

Daniel composed his no-really face, until he realized she couldn't see them; Cam seemed to follow the same train of thought, as he asked out loud:

"Are you sure, you sound a little…under the weather."

"_Mmhm,_" she replied noncommittally. "_So where's my ride home?_"

Sam grimaced.

"Actually, we're working on that. We need a lot of energy to recreate the passage, and it'd be a lot easier if we could recreate the exact same conditions as the first time."

* * *

"…_the exact same conditions as the first time_." 

Ha. A module exploding on the brink of an unstable wormhole? _Obscene_ amounts of luck needed just to survive to tell the tale? She did not care much for those 'exact conditions'.

Unfortunately, the problem was bigger than her disinclination to test her luck again. Vala managed to push herself to a sitting position, gritting her teeth as her broken rib sent stabs of pain through her body.

"Uh, you might want to consider options," she muttered.

* * *

"Why?" Daniel inquired suspiciously. He didn't like her tone at all. And he _hated_ the feeling that something was wrong and that they were powerless to help. 

"_Don't think…we can get the wormhole going again."_

They exchanged a short look, each sensing there was something more to the story than Vala was offering.

"Yes, I thought that might happen…I have another theory," Sam offered in an optimistic tone, "if we could get—err, Moya, to…"

Vala's voice cut her off.

"_Listen, Sam, not to sound picky, but can you skip to the theory where you guys bring me back without any help?_"

The temperature in her cell must have dropped twenty degrees when the next voice rang out.

"_Why can't Moya help? What happened to her?"

* * *

_

Vala kept silent for a second.

"_Aeryn?"_

"Vala…" Aeryn frowned slightly. Even their voices sounded alike. She felt strange, suddenly unsure what to say. She opted for the easier path. "What's wrong with Moya?"

"_Moya's fine—as is everyone on it_," Vala added quickly, anticipating the other's thoughts. "_I'm just…not _on_ Moya at the moment_."

There was an uncomfortable silence on both ends.

"O-kay…"Mitchell spoke in a doubtful voice. "That's…unexpected. _Bad_ unexpected. Where are you then?"

"_Uh, I…opted…for different accommodations. Moya's crew and I, we were, uhm, not the best of neighbors_."

Daniel rolled his eyes in annoyance. Why couldn't she just stay put, why were things always complicated?

"What the hell did you do, Vala?" he asked sharply, before he could stop himself.

"_Oh—shut up!"_

"Well what do you expe—"

"_No, no, I mean, _shut up" she hissed, suddenly alarmed, "_Quiet_!"

They exchanged confused glances, but moments later, a man's spiteful voice filled the air.

"_Stand!_"

At the SGC, Aeryn froze as the harsh command hung in the air. As the pieces quickly fell together in her mind, her eyes narrowed dangerously, her lips pressed together in an expression that portended nothing good.

* * *

"_The command carrier is nearing the planet. It is now in range of the defensive system."_

_"I reckon Crais will just _love_ having a dozen cannons pointed at his mighty ship."

* * *

_

"Who were you talking to?"

Vala regarded the man in front of her through half-lowered eyelids. His uniform and his long-practiced commanding stance vaguely reminded her of some leaders of the Lucian Alliance. She'd once made it her job to annoy them as much as possible, and old habits were hard to discard. So when he demanded once more, all imposing and loud and intimidating, she displayed the same defiant smirk that had once sent Netan's blood pressure high enough to give him a nosebleed.

"Crichton...he sends his regards."

In a split-second, Crais had crossed the small cell and his hand was on her throat, squeezing viciously.

"Lies!" With a tremendous effort, he lessened the pressure on her airways, and Vala gasped in near-gratitude. Then his enraged face broke into a nasty grin. "I was going to let you live long enough to witness his execution, Officer Sun. But your corrupted ways are a danger to all the upright men and women on this vessel…and I tried…tried to offer you redemption...you're leaving me no choice…" He seemed to be convincing himself of something, and it did not take at all long, because a moment later he snarled in her face. "I'm going to enjoy making an example out of you!"

The two guards accompanying him exchanged wary looks, and Vala wondered what atrocity Crais had in mind. (Daniel had once mentioned an Earth treaty on the treatment of prisoners, but she had a sneaky suspicion that Crais hadn't put his signature down for it.)

"Very well, Officer Sun…I believe this won't be our last meeting." With one last leer, he turned on his heels. "I will come see you again when you are slowly dying…when you will _beg_ me to end your life. Then, maybe, I'll take pity on you."

He walked out, and she heard him bark some orders to the two guards before the door slammed shut and she was once more left alone with her throbbing ribcage and the silent, ragged walls of her cell.

* * *

_"The curtain's about to go up. You ready, Zhaan?"_

_"I think we are, John. Chiana has certainly amused herself toying with my appearance."_

_"As long as it works… Don't miss your cue."

* * *

_

Silence reigned for a long moment. At the SGC, everyone exchanged worried glances, cold alarm settling in the pit of their stomachs. Aeryn bit her lower lip, as a feeling of deep injustice stirred within her.

"Is he gone?" she asked in a low voice, breaking the stillness. "Vala?" she called nervously, as anger welled within her. All her pride rebelled at the thought of someone else taking a punishment meant for her.

"_He's gone_," Vala eventually replied.

"What the hell was that?" Mitchell asked angrily.

"Who was that?" Daniel demanded simultaneously.

"Crais."

It wasn't Vala, but Aeryn who answered. Her countenance was dour, and she faced the others with a gaze that was both incredibly sad and incredibly angry.

"Vala, you ok?" Sam asked before Aeryn could speak again.

"_Fine, Sam_," she sighed tiredly. "_Now you see why you can't rely on Moya's help with getting me out of here, but don't let that stop you! As you might assume, I've overstayed my welcome with captain Crais_."

Aeryn nodded towards them, and her voice was dead serious when she spoke.

"We have to get her out of there."

"Yeah, we figured that one out," Cam commented dryly. "What do you say, Sam?"

The blonde shook her head.

"I'll need time to make the passage stable enough for a person to pass through…not to mention the amount of energy…to be honest, I'm not sure _how_ to create so much energy without any help from the other side."

Aeryn lowered her chin dangerously.

"Bialar Crais is unstable and cruel—"

"_And he doesn't like you much_," Vala provided. "_I'm still here, remember?"_

"Okay, Vala, what's your condition? _And_," Mitchell warned, "I want the truth this time. We can't go making a plan without the whole, _correct_ picture!"

A sigh came from the other side.

"_I'm fine. Bit battered, but I'll live. And if you really want the details, know that my head hurts like the last time I stayed for a banquet to the fertility goddess on Onys._"

A short silence, then she added some more details.

"_I'm in a quaint little holding cell on the good captain's big ship, and about to become a bit of a celebrity, as you all heard he plans to 'make an example out of me'. Well, out of Aeryn, if you look at it that way_."

"Frell."

Vala found herself in perfect agreement.

* * *

"_Start getting into your role, Mr. Crichton. A transport carrying the captain is on its way down. I can get you and your friend onto the command carrier, as agreed, but you will be on your own after that. Better hope your luck holds."_

_"You kidding? I never rely on luck; that's just what saves my neck when my brilliant plans inevitably fail."

* * *

_

**A/N: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it (and were not too shocked by the uncharacteristically fast update //grins//). You know I love hearing from you! Until next time,**

**livestar**


	14. A Wing and a Prayer, pt 1

**Wing and a Prayer, pt 1: Into the Fire**

"Where's Crichton! I demand that he be turned over to me at once!" Crais marched out of his transport, making a beeline for the leader of the small party awaiting his arrival. "The leviathan is trapped in orbit, yet my scans reveal no one on board except its Pilot! Where are the prisoners? You will present then _immediately_!"

Preyal measured the bellowing man from head to toes, before slowly acknowledging him with a curt nod.

"Of course, Captain Crais. The leviathan's crew has been captured and is in our custody. As soon as we have worked out the payment of the reward—"

"No reward until the human has been turned over to me! Now get him, before I order my men to go searching for him!"

With another slight nod, Preyal sent off two of his men. Seconds later, they returned, pushing a squirming Crichton, his upper arms securely in their grasp. A manic grin split Crais's face, as he walked up to the prisoner. Without warning, he hit John forcefully in the jaw, snarling menacingly in his face.

"You will pay for my brother's death! I will make you suffer ten times what he suffered!" Grabbing Crichton's hair, he prepared another strike, when the nuzzle of a gun appeared, unobtrusive yet definitely dangerous, at his side. "What is the _meaning_ of this!"

"I'm afraid I must insist that you do not damage the merchandise before paying for it, Captain."

"How _dare_ you!" he spluttered angrily, then turned to the three officers behind him. "Get Crichton!"

"I advise you attempt no violence," the bounty hunter leader spoke calmly. "If you look around, Captain, you will notice that you are highly outnumbered. Should you attempt to kill the prisoner before paying for him, I can assure you that you will not outlive him."

A quick glance around confirmed the subtle threat, and Crais's face turned puce as he marched up to Preyal, spitting words out in a blind rage.

"Insolent! I need only order my ship to fire on this frelling rat nest and you and your men will be blown to pieces! Now get out of my way!"

"Yo, Crais," John called incredulously, "you happened to notice the huge space cannons out there? How long d'ya reckon your mighty carrier can last against _those_? I wouldn't mess with the nice bounty hu—_ow_!" He coughed painfully as one of the men holding him elbowed him in the stomach. "On the other hand, just fry the bastards."

The Peacekeeper captain eyed his surroundings with barely suppressed anger. The settlement comprised quite a number of mercenary, smugglers and soldiers of fortune, all rumored to be particularly unfriendly. And, while the planetary weapon system they had come up with was no match for a few Peacekeeper battleships, it was more than enough to cause one command carrier serious hassle. Crais would have liked nothing better than to summon another carrier or a squadron of Peacekeeper ships to finish off the mercenary settlement, but he knew full well that he no longer had the support of High Command. Fools that they were, they dared interfere with his plans.

He turned to Preyal once more.

"Fine. My men will escort the prisoners while you and I discuss…paying arrangements," he spat out the last words with obvious disdain.

"I am afraid _my (_significantly more numerous) men will not surrender the prisoners before the reward has been collected. You understand, Captain, this capture was not without costs to us. Let me suggest another arrangement," Preyal hurried to add, as the vein in Crais's temple was throbbing dangerously. "One of my men will escort this one—" he nodded to Crichton, "to your carrier, _and_ make sure no harm comes to him until the payment is final. Meanwhile, you can come inspect the rest of the prisoners to make sure we mean no deceit. Then we can finalize the exchange with the reward, the rest of them will be delivered to you, our cannons will power down and you leave here with your prisoners, Captain Crais."

Crais's chest swelled and compressed angrily as he heaved in powerless frustration, but even the revenge-driven captain could tell he did not hold the upper hand in the game. Preyal's proposal delivered the human to his command carrier and inexistent mercies, which satisfied him to no end. Finally, he nodded curtly. At Preyal's further urging and through gritted teeth, he instructed the officers following his lead not to attempt anything against Crichton until he—Crais—returned to the ship, and the temporary guard—Preyal's man—departed safely.

As he mentioned the guard, a suspicion formed in his mind. Inferior as the human undoubtedly was, Crais did not want to take any chances. He drew closer to Crichton's guard, sizing him up. The cloak hid most of his features, and the ragged, weather-worn garments hid every inch of skin, yet the mercenary's frame was not by far similar to that of a Luxan. He was smaller—as most men tended to be, regardless of species—more wiry…

"Who are you?"

"No one of consequence."

…and the low voice that echoed from beneath the protecting hood was most certainly not the usual Luxan growl.

"Take off your hood," Crais ordered, gesturing his men to be prepared.

For a second, the guard seemed to hesitate, and the peacekeeper officers' hands tightened on their weapons. Then the thickly gloved hands moved to the edges of his hood, and the guard pushed the fabric back slightly, revealing a large pair of protective goggles and the dark, almost black nose and chin that protruded defiantly from beneath them.

Crais sniggered humorlessly, then turned a hatefully satisfied glare towards Crichton.

"Looks like there won't be any surprise rescuers for you this time, human. Not even," and he offered a particularly unpleasant grin, "officer Sun."

John's eyes darted to his in anger and alarm. He'd known Crais would mention Aeryn—or rather, Vala, though the captain obviously did not know that—sooner or later. Not for the first time, he hoped their rescue plan didn't come too late.

"If you so much as _touched_ her—"

"Aeryn Sun is a traitor and a deserter!" Crais bellowed. "She's receiving the appropriate punishment for her many crimes!"

"Crimes like thinking for herself, stopping you from killing blindly, running to save her life! You're insane, Crais."

"She's a shame to all her people!" the captain shouted again, his face a dark shade of red. "But she'll serve as an example to all those who would dare betray me!" His tone suddenly lower, he gave John another ominous grin. "Unfortunately, she won't be witnessing your execution, John Crichton…but perhaps I _will_ arrange for one last meeting between the two of you. I doubt she will be of much use to you by then, however," he finished nastily.

With the satisfaction of Crichton's worried expression, he turned to Preyal's man, who had, meanwhile, pulled the hood back over his head. Giving the shady guard one last probing look, Crais nodded curtly.

"You can move!"

"Can _I_ come?" came a sudden purr from somewhere behind the party of mercenaries, and a shapely Nebari came into view, the upper part of her body slightly tilted as she asked permission. "I can move a lot better than _he_ can…" she added saucily.

Before Crais could splutter an answer, Preyal's guard cackled with obvious amusement.

"Go back little tralk, and I might deal with you when I return."

"Aww," she pouted, rounding her full lips to form a small 'o' of disappointment. "But I'm _bored_…"

"Let us go inspect the cells, Captain," Preyal suggested.

Successfully distracted, Crais ordered four of his men to remain with him, while the others were to return Crichton and the mercenary guard to the carrier. The officers snapped off sharp salutes, turning to execute their orders while their captain followed the Preyal towards the improvised prison.

Crais did not notice the Nebari sidle up to the peacekeepers just as they were about to enter the ship, nor did he hear her tempting whispers, that caused the officers to grin wolfishly before allowing her on the transport. Soon after, they took off towards the command carrier.

* * *

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

With an exasperated groan, Vala put her hands over her ears. Then she laughed mirthlessly at the pointlessness of her gesture. There she was, prisoner to a maniac alien, and all she could worry about was the damn dripping noise in her damp cell.

_Drip. Drip._

It really _was_ driving her crazy. What kind of people built ships the size of mountains but didn't bother to fix the stupid plumbing?

_Drip_.

She gave up with a sigh. It was an ineffective distraction, anyway.

Since she'd lost the connection to Sam and the others, she'd been trying to keep her thoughts busy and her expectations low. Unfortunately, her mind kept conjuring up images of the mighty SG1 bursting in through a sky-blue vortex and kicking serious butt, then whisking her away to the safety of her SGC quarters and the bliss of a decent meal.

Vala shook her head disdainfully: when had she become such a stereotypical damsel in distress? Hopeful visions of her rescue would more likely get her killed than anything. Not to mention that SG1 still had no idea of how to get her back—Sam had been able to tell her that much before the connection had broken. Oh, they'd be trying, of that she had no doubt, but how could they recreate an interdimensional passage if they hadn't even been able to hold the 'radio' link for more than a few minutes?

Something warm tickled her temple, and her fingers brushed off a droplet of sweat. Without her noticing, the cell had become considerably warmer. Great, she could add dehydration to her long list of grievances. Worst of all, there was nothing she could do for herself at the moment, other than wait for someone to come up with the overdue rescue plan.

Her headache steadily worsening, Vala leaned back against the hard cot and closed her eyes.

* * *

D'Argo's eyes narrowed dangerously as heavy footsteps rang out outside the cramped improvised prison. Four of Preyal's men had their weapons trained on him from outside the metal bars of his cell (left unlocked at his _mild_ insistence). Now he would finally know if they had been wrong dealing with the man. 

The four guards warily tightened their grips on the guns, seemingly nervous of swindling a Peacekeeper captain particularly known for his vindictiveness. Would they go through with the plan or had Preyal played dirty all along? The moment of the truth had arrived, D'Argo told himself, seconds before the mercenary followed Crais inside the rickety cottage.

"Ka D'Argo," the Peacekeeper greeted with a patronizing leer, "we meet again."

"Pray that this is the last time, Crais," D'Argo scowled.

"I'll make sure _you_ pray so, Luxan!" He spat the last word with as much disgust as he could muster, and moved on to the next cell, where Rygel's beady eyes fixed him with a calculated glare. "Ah, a perfect new exemplary for my collection."

The Hynerian swallowed hard, mentally cursing Crichton. But perhaps all was not lost. How much would the information that he was being played be worth to Crais? A pleasant grimace of a smile spread across Rygel's face…

…and D'Argo let out a low, frightening rumble, giving the dominar a stony glare that almost triggered an explosion of helium. _Don't even think about it, _the glare said plainly, and it also carried an assortment of silent threats that wiped the grin off Rygel's face.

"Just don't let this _barbarian_ anywhere near me!" he croaked unhappily, prompting a bout of nasty laughter from Crais.

The captain's expression suddenly grew suspicious.

"There was another prisoner on the leviathan!" He turned to Preyal with a threatening scowl, and the officers that had followed him tensed up. "The Delvian priest, where is she?"

Preyal composed his most neutral expression. He was prepared for the question.

"Delvian?"

He spared a short glance to the two 'prisoners', then earnestly shook his head, preparing the bluff that could well get him into loads of trouble with the entire Peacekeeper force.

"There was none on the transport pod my men escorted down from the leviathan. Nor did anyone stay behind but the Pilot. If there was a Delvian among the crew, she left before they entered our orbit."

* * *

"I will stand guard next to the prisoner," Preyal's man declared, ignoring the two officers' suspicious look. 

"That's not procedure," one of them protested.

"There's no need for a guard outside the cell," the other agreed, "especially not a mercenary!"

"But your captain has agreed to it. Will you disobey him and hamper the prisoner exchange?"

The two men swallowed hard, knowing full well what happened to those who went against Crais's orders…or against what he _thought_ had been his orders…or against what he thought, period. Locked up just a couple of cells down the corridor was one of the officers who had mildly questioned the unprocedural punishment he had issued Aeryn Sun. And they hadn't even needed a cell for the former second in command, who had apparently been 'executed' for betrayal.

"Very well. Then I will stand guard, as well…to him _and_ to you," the first one decided. He then turned to his colleague and murmured: "You better not keep our little prize to yourself…she looked like a great recreation."

The second officer turned on his heels and left with a sprint in his step and a grin on his face.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks everyone for reading! **

**Now, did I mention the 100-reviews-bonus chapter I have in store for all of you? ****( :D okay I'm actually half-kidding. but there really IS a bonus chapter, which will be posted either next, or after the next 'normal' chapter) I hope you're still enjoying the story, and I'm waiting for your comments, ideas, questions etc.**


	15. A wing and a Prayer, pt 2

**Wing and a Prayer, pt. 2**

"I think I can get the connection going again, but there's no way to predict how long it will last this time."

Aeryn stopped Sam before she could key in the activation command.

"Crais might be with her again."

"Good point," Mitchell nodded. "Alright, Sam, open the channel. But no one make a sound before we're sure that Vala's alone."

Seconds later, the familiar static crackle of Sam's 'interdimensional phone' reached their ears. Silence greeted them from the other end, and then…

"_Son of a…!!_"

Mitchell's eyebrows shot upwards.

* * *

The body of the Peacekeeper guard dropped to the ground with a muffled thump. 

"Piece of cake," Chiana chuckled, bending over the fallen man to search his uniform. She tossed his access card to Zhaan, who quickly used it to open the door to the holding cell. "See, Crichton? I _told_ you my plan would work!"

"I'll hold the applause until we're off Crais's turf," John replied, exiting the cell to check his surroundings. When his eyes fell on Zhaan, he let out an appreciative huff. "Damn, Chiana's good with that make-up! _I_ wouldn't have recognized you, let alone Crais."

"I've got _many_ talents…" the Nebari grinned, but her feline march up to Crichton was cut short by Zhaan's firm grip on her shoulder. Only the faintest trace of amusement shone in the Delvian's meaningful gaze, and her blue eyes were all steely and no-nonsense beneath the disguise of the rough hood.

"Go, John, before someone discovers the deceit. Our time is short."

"Better hold on to this," Crichton reckoned, pocketing the access card. "It should open the door to Vala's cell. Pip, you and I'll team up for the search."

"I will go secure a transport pod to take us back once you have found her."

He nodded to Zhaan, then eyed the unconscious guard once more.

"Okay, time for a little fashion show."

* * *

Luckily, the Peacekeepers proved formidably unimaginative. Without Crais's instructions to do otherwise, they had locked him in a cell about a minute away from Vala's, making his mission all the more straightforward. 

If a plan that involved trusting ruthless mercenaries to infiltrate the enemy's ship shackled, unarmed and with no secure means of leaving could be called straightforward.

"A little _too_ convenient that there's no one guarding this place, don't you think? Keep an eye out for a trap," he instructed Chiana, then rolled his eyes as she took up a keen-eyed, straight-backed position next to the door. "Don't _look_ as though you're keeping an eye out! If someone comes by, just…do your thing. Distract them!"

She winked reassuringly, taking a few steps down the corridor as John swiped the access card through the reader. The door opened with a rusty-sounding _click_. A blistering heatwave struck him, chilling Crichton to the bones. He leapt more than walked to the small stone cot where Vala lay; he had suddenly understood why there was no one guarding her cell.

"Son of a…!"

He called out her name while he briskly searched for a pulse on her hot, clammy skin. When she half-rolled towards him with a small groan of protest, relief ran through Crichton. Maybe it wasn't too late, after all. The lighting was dim, but he could notice Vala blink with some confusion. Then, understanding dawned and something akin to enthusiasm shone on her damp face.

"Come on, Dorothy," he quipped, putting a hand on her shoulder and shaking gently, "the Wizard's taking us home."

When she didn't answer, he swore under his breath. He had hoped they'd be able to make a swift exit. Plan A never worked.

"Hey, Vala," he tried to get a reaction, "don't you dare die here. D'Argo's waiting to tear you to shreds for that little trick you pulled earlier, and you _don't_ want to see a Luxan disappointed."

Still getting no reply, he kept talking while he moved his hands to pick her up. It was at moments like those that he wished he'd had three arms, or that someone had thought of designing some kind of weapon you could fire through your mouth.

"Not to mention Aeryn. _Oooh_, even D'Argo will have to get in line once Aeryn finds out what you did to her Prowler."

It was then that another voice, clear and eager and monumentally pissed off, echoed inside the small soggy cell.

"_You _let_ her take my _Prowler?!"

* * *

"_Come on Dorothy, the wizard's taking us home._" 

The all-too-familiar drawl brought a mixture of surprise and wariness to their faces. Tilting his head in a questioning manner, Mitchell gave Aeryn a long look, but her entire focus was on the communication device. For a long moment, she silently listened to the voice on the other end, an expression hard to decipher in her eyes. Then her face swiftly changed to reflect indignation when the last phrase came through:

_"…even D'Argo will have to get in line once Aeryn finds out what you did to her Prowler…_"

Her eyes narrowing menacingly, Aeryn finally broke the silence on their end with a cross tone.

"You _let_ her take my _Prowler_?!"

* * *

Crichton froze. As Vala had done, some hours before, he looked wildly around the dark cell. 

"Aeryn…?"

* * *

The "interdimensional phone", as Cam had put it, barely transmitted sound between its two ends. Yet somehow, surprise, apprehension, hope, relief and more had managed to seep through the wobbly connection all the way to the SGC. When they heard Crichton call her name, they still knew half the emotions had been lost on the way. On the other side of the mirror galaxy, Aeryn swallowed hard, and smiled towards the small device that Sam had crafted. 

It was a smile warmer than any she'd ever given them.

"What did she do to the Prowler?" Aeryn asked again, although she could not fully hold back the smile that was pulling the corners of her lips upwards.

"_Yeah, Aeryn, can we forget about the damn _Prowler_ for a sec, here?_" John's indignant voice came through. "_Where are you? Are you okay?_"

"I'm fine, John…" She stopped for a second, wondering what else she wanted to say. It was easier to go for the facts. "Let's just say your little wormhole experiment _almost_ worked…."

* * *

It took a moment for him to take in her meaning. The realization sucked the air right out of his lungs. 

"You're…you're…you're on _Earth_? _My_ Earth?"

"_Not…quite."_

He frowned, as a different voice came through.

"_I'm Colonel Doctor Samantha Carter, Stargate Command Center…and, er…well, there's no nice way to put this: your wormhole, Commander, and my interdimensional bridge got us into this mess._"

* * *

Deeper and deeper the rabbit hole they slid, John thought with dry amusement. First a wormhole nearly kills them, then he gets stuck with Aeryn's zany doppelganger who effortlessly hijacks the Prowler, then he _willingly_ ends up on Crais's command carrier. Things had certainly been all topsy-turvy for a while. And now there he was, in a cramped cell and an absurd heat, talking on an interdimensional phone. Move over, Alice. 

"_How's Vala?_" two voices on the other side asked simultaneously, in the same no-nonsense, urgent tone that silently warned that the answer better be good news.

"I _knew_ you missed me," her muffled voice came from somewhere around his elbow. "I'm flattered, really. Do you have a daring rescue plan ready yet?"

"_Working on it," _Samantha Carter's voice came through, immediately followed by one he did not recognize.

"_Can you _please_ stay out of trouble, at least until we're done?_"

"Mmm," Vala muttered noncommittally, obviously not quite in shape for a round of bantering. Crichton looked at her, and the striking resemblance to Aeryn hit him again. He imagined a whole world filled with the same people he knew, except they were entirely different at the same time.

"_Yea, I'm with Jackson on this one, Vala. No more little surprises, okay?"_

Oddly familiar, the new voice resounded in the small cell, and John frowned.

"Let me guess," he ventured, putting the pieces together. "You're Mitchell."

"_In the flesh—well, in a manner of speaking._"

"Fascinating as this is," Vala murmured, grabbing Crichton's shoulder for support as she pulled herself up, "I assume Crais's room service might get here any minute. Sam, can you hold the link while we're on the move?"

"_I'm sorry, it's too unstable to withstand so many factor variations,_" came Sam's discontented voice.

Vala and John exchanged a glance, both torn between the urge to leave and the desire to stay in contact for just a moment longer.

"_Okay, we'll call you back then_," Mitchell resolved. "_And you better have a mission report ready, eh, Vala? You're a couple dozen behind, anyway._"

"Cameron, does my momentous crisis not move you in the least?"

Vala could almost _see_ Mitchell roll his eyes at her overly dramatic tone, and figured Daniel mirrored the expression. Little surprise that the archaeologist barked an exasperated 'just get out off that madman's ship!' at her. As for John, he knew sound advice when he heard it, but somehow he could not let go.

"Aeryn…"

* * *

And Aeryn, who had never been known for her empathy or her particular interest for the thoughts of others, felt that she could almost read his mind. 

"Go, John, get out of there. We'll try to open the channel again…later…"

"Is there anything we can do to help?" Sam asked.

"_Just tell me one thing…_" They heard his deep breath. "Doctor_ Samantha Carter…you know how to fix this mess, right?_"

There was a long silence, as four pairs of eyes fixed on Sam. Eventually, she sighed, and gave a lopsided nod.

"I'll do my best."

And the connection took its cue to break, leaving both sides in a desolate silence.

* * *

**A.N: Thank you for staying with this story, even despite my abysmal update habits! The bonus chapter will be up next! As always, I love to hear from you:) **


	16. The Skin of Our Teeth, pt 1

**A.N: My muse ran away with a French painter she met on the shore of the Seine one drizzly September morning; I had sent her out to get me some inspiration for this story, and it was the last I heard from her for months! Now, however, the French painter left her for a Belgian mime he met in a café near Bois de Boulogne. So my muse packed a chocolate bar, a sandcastle and an impressionistic brushstroke in her tourist bag and returned to me all repentant and ready to work.**

**And this is how this chapter began to happen...**

**Chapter 16**

**The Skin of Our Teeth, pt. 1: The brawl…**

Their interdimensional communication line dead, there was little point to linger in the hot, murky detention cell any longer. John activated his communicator.

"Zhaan, we've collected our package, time to make a quick exit. You got a ride home for us?"

"Meet me in the hangar," Zhaan's hushed voice came through. "Hurry, John. If we go over the time limit, D'Argo and Rygel will be—"

"I know," he interrupted. "We're on our way. Chiana," he clicked off the comm and turned to the Nebari, "you play vanguard. Any PK comes our way, do your thing and distract him. Here," he handed her a small weapon he had taken off the guard earlier, "you know how to use this, right?"

"I've handled bigger," she grinned.

Vala chuckled slightly. _There_ was a girl after her own heart. She would have given Chiana a conspiratorial wink, had her eyelids not been throbbing as painfully as the rest of her bruised body.

"Great," Crichton turned to Vala and put a hand on her shoulder. He could feel her skin, hot and clammy beneath the damp shirt. "Vala? Any chance you can walk to the hangar?"

She gave the smallest scoff, careful not to hurt her ribs too bad in the process.

"Wouldn't want to rob you of the chance…to play knight in shining armor all the way…" she muttered, and John shook his head.

"'Course not."

Without another word, he hoisted her up in his arms, mentally apologizing when she let out a painful hiss. Adjusting her weight, he grunted slightly and bit back a quip about more exercise.

"Let's go. We've got to get to the emergency staircase on this level."

"Lead the way," Chiana murmured, looking up at him expectantly.

"Eh. Yeah." Left and right, the grey metal walls of the corridor looked absolutely identical, ominous and silent. No traffic signs. John almost felt his masterful plan deflating like a pricked balloon, before he remembered the mercenaries' directions. "Right. This way," he beckoned Chiana, and, craning his neck to relieve some of the painful tension, proceeded down the deserted hallway.

* * *

"A shuttle will be down to transport them to my command carrier shortly."

"Of course, Captain," Preyal nodded pleasantly. "Shall we discuss…paying arrangements?"

"You'll get your money, mercenary," Crais spat out disdainfully, as he marched out of the improvised jail. He beckoned two guards who had stayed behind with him. "Take the prisoners out. Shoot them if they try anything."

Outside the shabby hut that held the prisoners, a few of Preyal's men stood chattering idly, seemingly uninterested in the proceedings; in reality, however, they watched the Peacekeeper soldiers keenly. Unobtrusively, their leader checked for the time, and nodded. They were on schedule. No need for diversions. Yet.

* * *

Their luck held for a couple of floors. Chiana had had to knock out a PK tech who had run into them by pure misfortune, but otherwise they had managed to steer clear of the command carrier's crew. Which, John thought, was an unusually good thing.

And of course, like all good things…

_"Hold it! Don't move or we'll shoot!_"

…it was bound to come to an end.

"Frell." Chiana gripped her small handgun, aiming it at a random PK soldier from the group of half a dozen or so that surrounded them. Crichton, still carrying Vala, stood slightly behind the Nebari, trying to decide whether it would be a good bet to lower his charge and start shooting, or try to make a run for it.

Neither choice seemed particularly viable.

"Lower your gun," one of the men warned Chiana, while the rest of them moved to form a semicircle around the three intruders. "How did they get here?" he demanded of his peers with a menacing look.

"I told those two frellwits that bringing _her_ aboard was a mistake," another commented snidely, glaring at the Nebari.

"Why, a girl could take offense a'that," Chiana purred, giving him the most inviting look she could muster, though her weapon wavered not in the least. "D'ya like me to show you just _what_ I can do?"

"Alright that's enough," the first man who had spoken, the apparent leader of the rest, said in a curt tone. "Take them to the holding deck. Captain Crais will deal with them when he comes back."

As the PKs advanced, Chiana and John took a step or two backwards, but it was pointless. They were surrounded, outnumbered and outgunned, and they knew it. John had begun to shift Vala's weight in his arms again, ready to reach for the gun in one last, desperate attempt against their captors. Two men had already gripped Chiana's upper arms, while a third was about to take her gun away.

As far as gambles went, Crichton felt his had been an exceedingly bad one. He gave the three soldiers closing in on him a withering glare.

And to his surprise, they stopped short of touching him, though their weapons were still firmly trained on him. Their eyes, however, had fixed not on John, but on Vala; a shadow of indecision crossed their features as they watched her sweaty face, all white except for the bright red spots in her cheeks. The PKs exchanged a short, grim look.

"We could say the prisoner killed her before we apprehended him," one of them muttered, barely audibly, and though the others pretended not to hear, agreement was etched plainly on their faces.

"A bold rescue, human Crichton," the leader said in a cold tone, "but pointless. There is nothing more that can be done for her."

He knew what they meant—and suddenly, there was a straw to grasp at. It was a long-shot, but what else could he do? Luckily, Vala had the presence of mind to keep her eyes closed and stay still, feigning unconsciousness.

At least, he hoped it was feigned.

"Do you see what Crais did to her?" John started, looking down at his charge. "How long do you think it'll be before one of _you_ ends up in that cell instead of—Aeryn?"

"Officer Sun is a traitor and a deserter," the man retorted mechanically, with no trace of emotion. "She deserves to be executed for her cri—"

"Did she deserve _this_?" John bit back resentfully. It wasn't hard to bring up the anger: he only needed to think it _could_ well have been the real Aeryn in his arms, and it _would_ have been too late for her. "Look at her! Did she deserve this—does anyone deserve this fate? All Aeryn did was speak her mind, voice an opinion against Crais's insane rages and look where it got her!"

He moved his unsparing eyes from one soldier to the next, though none of them looked back at him for long. Their gazes were still fixed upon Vala's still form.

"How long before one of you does that? How long before Crais locks _another_ one of his crew in a holding cell and cranks up the heat to slow cook?"

None of the Peacekeepers said anything.

"It would have to be his gun," one finally spoke in a low tone.

"Captain Crais wants them both alive," another pointed out, in a far less convinced voice.

"But the Living Death…" the first countered, a note of terror penetrating his tone, "that's not a punishment! That's…" he couldn't seem to find the word for it, but his horrified grimace said it just as well.

The leader kept silent for a long, thoughtful moment, then looked directly into Crichton's eyes and nodded, squaring his shoulders as he wordlessly took responsibility for what would happen next.

"No one deserves this," he agreed, and turned to his men. "Kill her."

* * *

D'Argo growled menacingly as two Peacekeeper soldiers waved him out of the cell at gunpoint. From the corner of his eye, he noticed a third one unceremoniously hoist Rygel by the back of his collar and drag him out. Two mercenaries watched impassively from the doorway, and the Luxan felt the cold stab of betrayal in his stomach.

Where in _hezmana_ was Crichton?

He didn't get to ponder the question for long, as he was pushed out of the rundown prison into the blinding sunlight, where another soldier waited, gun at the ready. "Chain him," the man suddenly said. "We don't want any trouble from the savage."

All the muscles in D'Argo's body tensed up. Four Peacekeepers was nothing—four armed ones slightly more than nothing. The human and his ridiculous plan be frelled. He would _not_ be chained up.

* * *

"Kill her."

John felt Vala stiffen in his arms. That was _not_ how his plan was supposed to go.

He had intended to open his mouth and try to talk their way out of it, but his body seemed to move of its own accord. Taking advantage of the moment of hesitation that passed among the Peacekeepers when it came to killing Vala—Aeryn, as far as they were concerned—John finally managed to grip his gun and attack.

Though her weight hindered his actions, Vala's body also hid his movements until it was too late for their captors. Before they knew it, two of them had dropped from an energy beam. The leader was quick in his reflexes—his weapon was locked on Crichton almost instantly, but Vala chose that exact moment to open her eyes and half-slide out of John's arms to allow him more freedom. The shock of seeing her conscious was enough to freeze the Peacekeeper for a split-second; it was more than enough for John to get him with a well-aimed shot.

Still holding Vala up with one arm, he immediately turned his attention to the remaining three soldiers, but Chiana was keeping them too busy to fire on him. The moment she had seen Crichton grip his gun, she had elbowed the two men behind her, causing them to let go of her shoulders and stagger backwards. Next, with her usual agility, she had kicked their legs from under them and turned to the third man just in time to see him charge. A kick to her solar plexus knocked her to the ground, and she saw him aim his weapon at her…

…before falling forward like a plank. Behind him, Crichton motioned her with his gun-wielding hand, his other arm wrapped around Vala's waist.

"Come on, Pip, get up, we gotta move. I'm guessing we're past the 'stealth' stage of our plan."

They could hear footsteps echoing from further down the corridor, and agitated shouts—no doubt the fight had attracted attention of others on the command carrier.

"I'd say you're about right," Chiana nodded with a worried glance at the still-deserted part of the corridor behind them, "let's get outta here."

He scooped Vala up again, as it was obvious she would only slow them down otherwise.

"Screw inconspicuous, we're taking the damn elevator to the hangar level," he decided, and they half-ran, half-stumbled the rest of the way to the nearest elevator. Luck seemed to favor them again: it was empty. John could see a group of soldiers run towards them just as the metal doors closed, and he looked down at Vala. "Hang tight, Dorothy, we're blasting in there shooting out of all our barrels."

"Ah, just the way I like it," she muttered between clenched teeth, and draped both arms around his neck for better support. Seconds later, the doors opened to the hangar bay.

"Zhaan, we're comin' in hot," Chiana shouted in her communicator, as they bolted through the vast metal hall, trying to use stationary Prowlers and pods for cover. Luckily, most of the crew in the hangar were technicians, not fighters. However, it was only seconds before another elevator came down, this time filled with Peacekeeper soldiers who immediately opened fire.

"This way." Not a moment too soon, Zhaan's silhouette appeared from behind a rusty-looking pod; she still wore the disguise and the mercenary's long, thick cloak, and they barely recognized her. "Hurry, D'Argo and Rygel's time is almost up."

"So's ours, in case you hadn't noticed!" John yelled to cover the weapons fire, as they followed the Delvian to the shuttle she had secured for them. He climbed in first, and moved to sit Vala down in one of the chairs. "Better get that seatbelt, we're in for one hell of a ride!"

"Alright, shut it, shut it!" John urged once they were all inside, but Chiana stopped him. "Not now, Pip!" he shouted, but she wouldn't be deterred.

"We take this old piece of dren down, we'll lose Aeryn's Prowler!" she pointed out. "The only thing even close to firepower we got on that boat of ours."

"The four of us don't _fit_ into a Prowler!" Crichton shot back. "We're sticking to the plan, now shut the damn door and let's get out of here before our _friends_ out there burst in here for a social call!"

"I got an idea—Zhaan, I need your cloak!"

There was no time for debates. The Delvian discarded the heavy cloak and Chiana put it on, before quietly slipping out of the shuttle and melting into the background with her usual talent.

"Don't worry, Crichton," she told him through the communicator, "they're too busy with _you_ to notice _me_. And I've got a plan."

"That's what I'm afraid of," he murmured under his breath, but there was no time for second guesses. "Okay Zhaan, get us out of here!"

* * *

Chiana had been right. The Peacekeeper troops who had followed them into the hangar bay were too focused on moving _towards_ the shuttle to notice her skulking away from it. She managed to steer clear of all of them, and scanned the surroundings for Aeryn's vessel. There were quite a few Prowlers in sight, along with other shuttles and pods.

"Which one is it, which one is it," Chiana sang to herself in an attempt to focus better. "Aah," she smiled, as she laid eyes on a particularly battered-looking Prowler. "There you are."

She didn't notice one of the soldiers look straight at her as she quickly slipped into the cockpit.

* * *

"Lieutenant!"

The command centre of Crais's carrier was alight with agitation, as techs, flight monitors and officers alike felt the weight of their current situation.

"The hangar doors just opened, Sir!" a man shouted from one of the consoles.

"_What_!" Crais's second-in-command marched to the console, as if to double-check the subordinate's findings. "Who authorized that? Close them _immediately_!"

"Someone overrode the controls!" someone else shouted. "They're still opening—Sir, a shuttle is leaving hangar!"

"Arm cannons! Open fire on it! I want it destroyed!"

The tension in the air was almost palpable; Peacekeepers punched commands into their consoles and feverishly checked the glowing screens. Above all of them, the nervous Lieutenant prowled like a caged lion.

"Frak cannons arming—Sir!" the weapons officer's voice went up an octave. "The planetary weapons system just got a lock on us!"

"What! Explain!"

"We're getting a warning, Sir, to power down all our weapons or else _they'll_ open fire on us. They say we're violating the orbiting agreement." The man turned to his superior. "Their system can destroy us in a microt, Lieutenant."

"Are they firing on the shuttle?" the second-in-command demanded, feeling something was at play, but unable to tell precisely what was going on. The whole thing stank of deceit, but how, _how_?

"Negative, Sir!" someone else replied. "They're warning we have ten microts to power down the cannons. Nine…eight…"

"Sir! A Prowler just left the hangar in pursuit of the shuttle—identifying it now…" A small silence, during which everyone in command knew exactly what was going to follow. "It's officer Sun's, Sir."

The Lieutenant stared at one of the screens showing the two smaller vessels racing down to the planet bellow.

"Five…four…" the man continued his countdown, voice growing more strained with every passing microt. "Three…"

"Power down the cannons," the second-in-command hissed. "Get me Captain Crais on the planet."

Another silence.

"We can't, Sir. Their system jammed our communications when it target it us."

"_Frell_! Incompetents! Frelling _work_ on it! Get me through to Captain Crais, _now_!!"

* * *

**A.N: I did promise I wouldn't abandon this story, so…any chance I'll get away with a puppy-eyed "better late than never"? To all of you still reading this, you are amazing, thank you so much for your patience:). I do hope you are still enjoying it.**

**livestar**


	17. The Skin of Our Teeth, pt 2

**A.N: Thank you, everyone, for reading this story and for sending me your feedback! :) As always, I love reading your responses! **

**The Skin of Our Teeth, pt. 2: …the Brass**

As one of his men advanced on D'Argo holding a pair of hard metal chains, Preyal instinctively moved towards where their 'prisoners' stood, guarded by the Peacekeeper soldiers.

"What is going on here?" he asked in his calm, pleasant voice.

"They asked for chains," his man replied with a nod to Crais's guards, "for the Luxan. Afraid he'll break loose if they don't tie'im up good and proper," he sniggered.

"You don't know who you're dealing with," one of the Peacekeepers immediately bristled at the mockery. "You best keep your mouth shut, mercenary, or else—"

Preyal wasn't paying attention to the scuffle. He had always had a knack for anticipating trouble, and as he watched D'Argo, the cold glint in the Luxan's eye confirmed his suspicions—things could get very bad very quickly.

"Now, this is hardly necessary. Our restraints," and he indicated the cuffs already on D'Argo's wrists, "have held him until now. Surely, if he could have escaped, he would have done so long before you arrived. If he did not break free of a rundown prison in a small settlement with...merchants…for guards," he pointed out, a quiver of amusement in his tone as he referred to his men as "merchants", "it seems unlikely he will do so on a command carrier full of trained Peacekeeper fighters."

Crais had walked towards their group and the Peacekeepers seemed inclined to argue the point further, when another of Preyal's men approached.

"A shuttle is approaching the planet," he said, loud enough for Crais to hear. "Are we expecting it, or are we to activate the defense system?"

Preyal held back a smile. His men were sticking to their roles, and the ruse was coming along better than he had expected. He had missed the exhilaration of seeing a clever swindle through.

"I assume it is your shuttle, Captain?" he asked in the same agreeable tone, and Crais nodded. "It is here to escort the prisoners, then," he spoke to the mercenary. "Help the captain's guards take the prisoners towards the landing site. Oh," he threw idly over his shoulder as he followed Crais to where the shuttle was landing, "also assist them in chaining the Luxan, if they feel the need. Shoot him if he resists."

But as it turned out, and Preyal knew it would, the Peacekeepers did not want to waste time chaining D'Argo, when help had already arrived. They just pushed him roughly towards the shuttle, one of them still dragging a protesting Rygel along.

* * *

Chiana watched the shuttle enter the planet's atmosphere. According to the Prowler's instruments, they would take a few minutes to land. She allowed herself a moment of pondering: would Moya's crew make it off the planet? If they did, it would be a story worth telling.

As for her, her part in the story was coming to an end. She steered the Prowler slowly towards Moya, checking the panels every few seconds to make sure neither the carrier nor the planetary defense systems locked targed on her. They hadn't.

"Well, well, ain't that a surprise, Preyal's keeping to his word!" she smiled to herself. "Toad's best spent crate of crystals."

She got the Prowler back on Moya with no difficulties.

"Pilot?" she called as soon as she left the cockpit. "Are we ready to starburst as soon as the others get back on board?"

"Moya and I are more than ready to leave here," came the Pilot's voice. "However, I am afraid the planet's defense cannons are still locked on us."

"Blez out, they'll power down when it's time."

"I most certainly hope so." Pilot paused, then changed the topic, adding in a tone that betrayed his surprise: "You have managed to bring Officer Sun's Prowler back."

"'S what I'm good at, Pilot," Chiana grinned. "Thought we might need one of those 'round here."

"I see." Pilot paused for another second, then his voice resounded once more along the empty corridors. "Welcome back, Chiana."

* * *

"Bring them!"

As he barked the order to his men, Crais marched towards the shuttle that had just landed. He could barely contain his satisfaction. Finally, he _had_ them; and soon the escaped prisoners would learn that no one dares defy Bialar Crais, as for Crichton, _Crichton_--

"Captain Crais, I believe we still have the paying arrangements to conclude…" Preyal mentioned yet again.

"Once they're on my carrier, not before!" Crais cut him off. "Now move!" he instructed his men, as the shuttle door opened with its usual hiss. The four guards shoved D'Argo closer.

No one came out. For a second, it was nothing unusual. By the time anyone realized something was wrong, it was too late.

With a deafening roar, D'Argo shoved back against his captors, throwing them to the ground, while Crichton suddenly launched out of the shuttle, firing his weapon wildly. He did not need precision at such close distances, and anyway, the Luxan had done half the work for him. Before John was even fully out of the shuttle, three of the guards had gone down; he took care of the fourth one easily.

Having been lucky enough to be standing aside when Crichton had appeared and the Luxan had gone into a rage, Crais was unhurt. Taking in the sudden turn of events, he pulled out his pulse rifle and aimed it squarely at the back of Crichton's head. At last, he was going to kill his brother's murderer; perhaps he would not be watching him in the eye, but given the circumstances, Crais took what he could get. He gripped his gun tighter as his finger squeezed…

"I would lower that weapon, if I were you," came a husky voice from behind him, and the Peacekeeper captain felt the cold muzzle of another gun pressed against his neck. "Now, Captain, if you please."

When faced with the choice between Crichton's demise and his own survival, Crais chose himself, as usual. And once more, the rage inside him was fuelled, growing exponentially with every second that the human lived and he, Crais, failed to make him suffer.

He craned his neck slowly, to see his attacker.

"The Delvian!! But—how!" he sputtered angrily, then turned a furious glare on Preyal, who was standing a small distance away, weapons drawn and aimed at Crichton's group. "You! You betrayed me! You said she wasn't among the prisoners! You will pay—I will have dozens of command carriers, the entire Peacekeeper force come down on your pathetic planet—"

"I am afraid, Captain, that you are quite mistaken," Preyal replied, never losing his calm. "You see, I did not capture the Delvian, as you noticed yourself when you inspected the prisoners. Furthermore," he added with an arch of his eyebrow, "you seem to oversee the fact that I am, in fact, holding these people at gunpoint, and the only thing standing between my armed men and them is—surely you can appreciate the irony of this, Captain—" he smirked, "you."

* * *

From where Crais was standing, the situation was grim. Crichton and his entourage had him at gunpoint, while at a small distance, the mercenaries had them surrounded, weapons trained on the four escaped prisoners. But with him as a hostage, things had come close to stalemate.

"Fire on them, you idiots, what are you waiting for!" Crais bellowed. "Kill them all! Kill them!"

"Crais, d'you get sunstroke or something?" Crichton asked, a mixture of disbelief and mockery. "They shoot at us, we shoot at you, you do get that, right? Or is that superior intellect of yours finally failing you? In fact," he grinned, "as your pal there said, it is ironic how you came all this way to capture us…and you end up being our ticket out of here."

"Impertinent, I will hunt you down and—"

"Blow him to hezmana, yes, we heard it all before," Rygel scoffed, "yet the human is still alive, defying evolution itself, while you, you Peacekeeper yotz, you're in my power now—"

"You want to know what I do with the likes of you, Hynerian?" Crais spat with disdain.

"That's enough," Zhaan interrupted. "This is not helping."

"Nothing is going to help you, Delvian," Crais said with malice. "You're mine, and I'm going to enjoy tearing your blue ass—"

"I doubt it," she cut him off coldly, immune to his insults. "For now, it would seem you are our negotiating chip, Captain."

"How did you get on my carrier?" he asked furiously.

There was an answer they had prepared ever since the beginning of their plans, and Zhaan intended to execute it perfectly. She smiled one of those rare smiles that held a hint of cruel satisfaction to it.

"You did not search Aeryn's Prowler thoroughly enough," she replied in the same low voice. "I was there all along…waiting for my chance to escape."

At Aeryn's name, Crais's expression grew, if possible, angrier, more satisfied and more malicious at the same time. He gave Crichton a poisonous glare.

"Officer Sun already paid for her crimes. A fate worse than death!" he shouted. "Soon it will be your turn, human. And I assure you, your fate will be much…much worse."

John felt his pulse quicken. Thoughts whirled in his mind, too quick for reason.

How close had it come, really, to Aeryn being locked in that cell instead of Vala? How would things have turned out? She could have been captured. Tortured. Would she have survived all those hours in the blistering heat? Surely not. And there was Crais, right in front of him, wearing that smug, ugly grin, and all John wanted to do was punch it out the back of his head, but the anger, the sheer fury of it was jammed so low in his throat that he couldn't even form words…

…and John was shocked to hear an enraged howl rip from his throat, worse than anything he had heard before, a snarl that said blood and death and worse…

…and as D'Argo charged Crais, murder in his eyes, Crichton realized it had not been him who had uttered the howl, after all.

He barely had time to cling to the Luxan's broad shoulders, as Zhaan put herself between D'Argo and Crais. Rygel hissed angrily aside, thoroughly disappointed that his shipmate had not gotten the chance to tear into the Peacekeeper captain.

"D'Argo!" John shouted in his ear, but his words were drowned by the Luxan's angry growls, Rygel's indignant cussing, the mercenaries' shouts and the general madness.

"D'Argo, please, "Zhaan urged. "We need him to get off this planet, control yourself."

Crais didn't waste time—as soon as he saw the Delvian distracted, he launched for her weapon, almost managing to grip and turn it on her, when…

"I'd stand still if I were you—I'm really just dying for a pretext to shoot you right now…Sir."

* * *

John had not given the matter much thought. But, between deceiving guards, dodging flying energy bolts and trying to maneuver their way off the carrier, he had somehow formed the vague idea that having the Peacekeepers think Aeryn dead (or worse) was a good thing.

So there was a chill of dissatisfaction in his stomach when he saw Vala exit the shuttle and put a gun to Crais's head. Of course, he quickly discerned that in doing so she had probably helped Zhaan, but a part of him wished they could have pulled off the plan without revealing her presence to Crais. He couldn't help a small scowl.

Then he noticed the expression on the captain's face, and knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that it had been totally worth it.

Crais looked half-way between instantaneous combustion and an aneurism.

His skin had turned a good shade of puce and his eyeballs looked just about to starburst out of their sockets. He was panting with all his body like a race horse at the end of the course. His mandible shook uncontrolled and his voice seemed to have strangled behind the swollen veins on his neck. Finally, his rage had climbed high enough into his throat to allow him to sputter out a single disbelieving word:

"Y—y—you!!"

Then his voice came back, and he erupted into a furious rant that made Crichton think of a raging pitbull. Spittle flew out of his mouth as he stammered with anger.

"You—traitor—supposed to be—the cell—the living death—I turned the heat to maximum myself!"

Vala gave him her best infuriating smirk, even as she leaned against the shuttle for support.

"What, you mean your lovely little steam bath back there?" She feigned curiosity. "I'm sorry, did I leave before the end? Did it come with a massage option? Or a facial?"

John wanted to tell her she was taking it too far, that Crais would figure out she wasn't Aeryn. He really, really wanted to stop her…

…but just couldn't bring himself to do it. Neither could any of the others. That single scene was, all by itself, making up for everything they had gone through recently.

Crais developed a closer and closer resemblance to a chocking beetroot. Seeing his face redden even worse with anger, Vala shook her head and commented, perfectly straight-faced and serious.

"Definitely a facial for you, darling. You've such a sensitive complexion!"

And even the mean, I'll-disembowel-you-if-I-feel-like-it, terrible Luxan stared at her in awe, looking like a kid on Christmas morning.

* * *

**A.N. I completely echoed John's feelings on whether or not Crais should know that his little heat delirium stunt failed. Writing this last scene was just too tempting! **

**To those of you wondering what Aeryn and SG1 are up to…;) we'll see pretty soon. They have not been getting too much action recently, and I'm pondering whether to let them enjoy their peace and quiet…or not.** _/grin/_

**Thank you all for reading!**


	18. Luck,If You've Been a Lady to Begin With

**A/N: Wow, it's been so long since I updated this - can't even think of _any_ reasonable excuse for being MIA for so long! So, I'll just say I'm really sorry about being the worst updater in the known galaxy.  
**

**But I'm honestly trying to finish this story. Partly because I finally found the hard drive where I'd backed it up (and I swear I'd been looking for it for two years...!), partly because I don't like leaving stories unfinished, but mostly because I really enjoyed writing this, and I'd really like to follow it through (and not leave all the readers hanging, even though you all probably hate me by now.)  
**

**Chapter 18: Luck, If You've Been a Lady to Begin with...(pt.1)  
**

"-already considered that, I've looked over Dr. Lee's records of the Ancient device, but there wasn't a lot of useful data…" Sam cradled the receiver between her shoulder and ear, and at the same time typed away on two keyboards at the same time. "Pretty sure…Yes. Yup." She sighed. "Don't worry, Daniel, I'll call you down as soon as it's done." A longer pause. "Yes, I checked with her too…yup…uhm no, I don't really think I need Dr. Lee…" Another sigh. "Well, you _could_ look over his records once again, just to make sure I didn't miss anything… great, thanks!" She replaced the phone in its hook with a shake of her head, and went back to the computer with multiple monitors attached.

She understood why Daniel was so impatient - heck, they all were! Especially after finding out that Vala was in the hands of some madman. Still, she wished they could follow Teal'c's example and go meditate, instead of badgering her...

"How much longer can this _possibly_ take?" Seated in a nearby chair, Aeryn watched her every move with hawk-like intent.

Sam gave her a half-irritated, half-sympathetic glance. "I'm still scanning the interdimensional tunnel for the right frequency and wavelength."

"Didn't we already have that when we made contact earlier?"

"We had _a_ frequency, but it was pretty bad, that's why the connection dropped as soon as Vala moved." She frowned at the spectrographic analysis on one of the monitors. "If we're going to open a passage for the two of you to travel through, I need a much more stable set of parameters, or…" Her grimace was sufficient to explain what might happen if the passage was not stable.

Aeryn got up from her seat, and came to lean over Sam's shoulder. "What can I do to make this go faster?" she demanded.

Sam once again suppressed an irritated reply.

"Sorry, there's not much to do," she replied. "During our brief communication with Vala and John, I recorded the particle oscillations on their side, and used them to infer the maximum likelihood universal constants for your universe. I'm now running a simulation over a large range of parameters, to see which ones will minimize the phase difference between our two dimensions… the smaller the phase difference, the more likely it is that the interdimensional passage will hold long enough for you and Vala to travel through it. I'm using almost all of the SCG's computer clusters to run the simulation, but it's an enormous parameter space and it has to generate a complex likelihood surface…"

Aeryn looked completely unimpressed with the detailed technical explanation. "So how much longer will this take?"

Sam groaned. "Maybe a few hours."

Aeryn paused for a moment, trying to transform the unfamiliar unit of measurement into arns; as soon as that was done, her expression became indignant. "A simple simulation cannot take that long. I could take apart a whole frelling command carrier and put it back together in half that time!"

"You know..." Sam gave her a sideways glance. "Daniel could really use some help reviewing Dr. Lee's records..."

Her victory was cut short when, a few minutes later Cam strolled in with his usual confidence. "So, how long before we can dial Narnia again?"

"Not you, too," she groaned. "For cryin' out loud, I'm trying to model a whole _universe_ based on a two-minute interdimensional phone-call! We have some of the most powerful computers in the world, but this isn't science fiction! Do you have any idea how many free parameters go into this simulation? The program has to run through millions of combinations before it finds the optimum, and it's going to take a few hours, and if you think you can do any better, you're welcome to try!"

The team leader held up his hands in surrender. "I can take a hint. I'll get out of your hair." Sam looked a little embarrassed, but he waved off her apology. "Just give me a shout when we're ready to bring Lassie home."

* * *

John had said that the Moya crew routinely relied on sheer luck to save their skin whenever their plans inevitably failed.

He had _not_ been kidding.

As he stared down the barrels of about a dozen weapons aimed at him, he came to the realization that, ever since he had decided to use his module to create another wormhole, every single thing that could have gone wrong, had.

First the damn wormhole had been so unstable that it had nearly blown up his module (along with himself and Aeryn, for good measure). Then it turned out Aeryn had been sucked through the unstable wormhole into a parallel universe, and he was stuck with her wacky space-pirate counterpart, Vala.

His attempts to keep Vala under control until they could get Aeryn back had resulted in her stealing Aeryn's Prowler.

Bounty hunters. A forced starburst attempt that had left Moya badly needing repairs. Then when the leviathan was finally ready to starburst again, the bounty hunters prevented Vala from flying the Prowler back. And of course Crais had crashed their party, because why not? Everything else was already going so well.

He had put a small amount of faith in their daring rescue plan, not least of all because any plan that got Chiana, D'Argo and Rygel to successfully cooperate was nothing short of miraculous. Even if it did involved a shady deal with Chiana's mercenary buddies.

Then, naturally, the attempt to retrieve Vala from Crais's command carrier had degenerated into a full-blown fight with half the Peacekeepers on board, followed by a very poorly executed escape (during which Chiana had gone off on her own God-only-knew where) and culminating into Crais almost shooting Zhan's head off.

_"I'd stand still if I were you—I'm really just dying for a pretext to shoot you right now…Sir."_

Luckily, Vala had intervened right on time, causing the Peacekeeper commander to nearly burst a vein at the sight of her.

So Crais had been disarmed and Zhaan saved for the moment, but in the grand scheme of things, caught as they were between a bunch of very angry, very armed Peacekeepers, and an equally menacing (and even better armed) group of mercenaries, John thought it safe to assume that they were pretty screwed.

Vala seemed to agree with his train of thought. "You know, this would be a _great_ time for that famous luck of yours to kick in," she whispered, as she gave up the weapon to him and leaned against the side of the shuttle for support. John thought she looked a little like she had gotten into a wrestling match with the Hulk. Except worse.

"You. Will _pay_. For this!" Crais was still fixing her with a hateful (and more than a little exophtalmic) glare. "All of you! But _especially_ you, officer Sun. I will make you wish you had died today." He let out a maniacal laughter. "I will make you wish for the Living Death!"

Vala gave Crichton an impatient glance. "Seriously. Any time now."

* * *

And so there they were. Crais's men had their weapons trained on them. Preyal's mercenaries had weapons trained on them, too. D'Argo was holding a fuming Crais in a firm grip, and John was pointing the pulse pistol at the captain's head, but all in all, they did not have an awful lot of leverage. And any minute, it seemed that someone would fire first, and all hell would break loose.

"Don't worry, Captain." Preyal, the mercenary leader, seemed utterly at ease despite the explosive situation. "They cannot hope to escape with their lives. If they happen to kill you, rest assured that my men will eliminate them…at no extra charge." He grinned his sharp-toothed, predator grin. "I suggest you give up your weapons and end this, Mr. Crichton. There's really no way you can win."

"Story of my life…" John muttered. He squared his shoulders and looked Preyal straight in the eyes. "Listen pal…here's the deal. You let us go in this shuttle, we get back to our ship, then send Crais and the shuttle back to his command carrier. Everybody wins." He paused for a moment, then amended with a lopsided nod. "Or at least everybody stays alive. Which kinda feels like a win at this point."

The mercenaries laughed.

"A negotiating man," grinned Preyal, "I like it. But I'm afraid we don't have a deal. You see, Mr. Crichton, the good captain and I have a prior understanding. That involves _me_ turning _you_ over to _him_, in exchange for compensation." He paused a moment, then amended. "Of course, given the current circumstances, we might have to modify the terms of our agreement…But I'm sure he wouldn't mind if I killed you instead of turning you in alive. After all, I'm sure he was not much invested in your long-term health."

"Shoot them," croaked Crais, struggling against D'Argo's grip. Zhaan gave him a warning glance.

"Calm yourself, please, Captain. You are endangering your own safety."

Crichton nodded in agreement. "You heard the lady. You shoot us, we shoot Crais. And you can say goodbye to your paycheck," he added as an afterthought. "Wouldn't want that, would we?"

Preyal shrugged carelessly. "One doesn't always get what one wants. And killing you might be its own reward…you and your crew seem like a lot of trouble, Mr. Crichton-"

"Ha! We're not his crew, you yotz!"

"-but in the end, I suppose I am not the one with the highest stakes in this game," Preyal murmured. "Captain Crais… these are your prisoners now, and it's your head at the end of their weapon…so I leave it entirely up to you. If you wish, my men will shoot them. As I said, no extra charge. That will likely get you killed, regrettably, but you would at least know that they did not survive you for very long." He paused to let the words sink in, then resumed. "If, on the other hand, you wish to take Mr. Crichton's deal…"

* * *

"Sir! The Prowler has reached the leviathan!" Aboard the command carrier, several Peacekeeper officers were struggling to regain control of a situation that was quickly spiralling into chaos. "The cannons are still locked on us, Sir!"

Crais's second in command was furious. The prisoners had escaped, but they couldn't even arm their weapons because of the mercenaries' frelling planetary defense system. "Contact the planet! Tell them to open fire on the leviathan! Get me Captain Crais!"

"Our communications are still being jammed!"

"Override it, you frellwit!" His anger warred with panic - he knew that Crais did not tolerate failure, and he had no intention of meeting the same faith as the Captain's last second in command. "Find a way to get through to the planet! Or disable those cannons!"

"A short-range EM burst might cause their targeting system to reboot," one officer suggested. "But it will only be take a few microts before they get it back online."

"A few microts is all we need. Target the leviathan! Be ready to fire as soon as those cannons are disabled!"

The second in command watched the imposing silhouette of the biomechanical ship, drifting in space a short distance away. A few seconds would be long enough to cripple it. With a little luck, he'd be able to keep his job.

* * *

"Pilot, is Moya ready to starburst?"

"Yes, Chiana." Even Pilot's voice sounded a little strained. "She is…eager to leave this place."

"She's not the only one… Anything from the others?"

"The Peacekeeper transporter is still on the planet's surface."

"Draz!" The Nebari took a few aimless steps around command, too excited or too nervous to sit still. "What are they doing down there, havin' a _party_? They better hurry up or we're all frelled."

Pilot sighed. "Moya and I…concur with your assessment."

* * *

"I will _enjoy_ washing my hands in your blood, human."

From the pilot's seat of the Peacekeeper shuttle, John rolled his eyes. "Yeah, very Stephen King of you, Crais, now shut the hell up before someone shoots you."

Now that they were safely away from the armed Peacekeepers and mercenaries, Rygel was more than up for the challenge. "I say we finish him off."

"I'll see your head decorate my nightstand, Hynerian," Crais hissed.

"Charming character." Further up front from the bickering Rygel and Crais, Vala was leaning back in her seat, eyes closed. Little beads of sweat still clung to her forehead and temples. John turned once again in his seat to give her a worried glance.

He then looked to Zhaan, who shook her head. "There is nothing I can do for her here. Once we get to Moya, I will be able to help."

"You hear that? Hang in there a few more minutes, and Zhaan can patch you up."

"Can't wait," came Vala's reply, muttered between clenched teeth.

Crais stared at her with unbridled hatred.

"I hope you suffer. You deserve all that pain and more," he threatened. "I don't know how you survived the heat delirium, but I _will_ find out, if I have to _dissect_ you bone by bone."

"Zip it, Crais," snapped John. He may not have been Vala's biggest fan, but at the end of the day, she had ended up on that command carrier by trying to help them, and she'd definitely earned at least the benefit of the doubt.

"You can't possibly believe that you'll get out of this alive," Crais growled. "I will have you _blown to pieces_! You'll-"

"For a man with a pulse pistol to his head, you talk a lot, Peacekeeper." Rygel floated up to the captain's seat and produced a small, primitive-looking blade. "Maybe we should cut your tongue."

"Why don't you come a little closer and _try, _vermin."

"That's _Dominar_ Rygel XVI to you," the Hynerian huffed, waving the blade until D'Argo pushed him away with an irritated growl. "I'm going to enjoy this-"

"Enough, Sparky! We need Crais alive to fly this shuttle back to the command carrier, or else Mad Max down there blows up Moya." John turned around to give Rygel a no-nonsense glare. "Get up here and let Zhaan help D'Argo guard him."

Another growl from D'Argo. "I don't _need_ any _help_."

Crichton shook his head. Sure, they had managed to get off the planet by holding Crais as leverage, but the bigger challenge was getting Moya safely away from the planet's defense system and, more importantly, the command carrier's long-range weapons. And unfortunately, they had to keep Crais alive to do that. Which was perhaps the biggest challenge of all...

* * *

A few minutes later, they could see the outline of the leviathan right in front of them. "Alright, this is it…" John angled the shuttle to dock safely, and within moments... "Ladies and gentlemen, we are now on Moya. The weather outside is a warm 70 degrees and local time is get-the-hell-outta-dodge." He jumped out of his seat, while the others were quickly exiting the transporter. "Your turn to take the wheel, Crais."

The Peacekeeper was seething. "And if I refuse?"

John held up the pulse pistol. "Look, I'm gonna push this shuttle out into space with my bear hands if I have to, and I don't care if you're flyin' it or doing cartwheels in the back, but you're gonna be inside it when it leaves Moya. That clear?"

He slowly walked toward the door, never taking his eyes off the livid Crais.

"I'll get you for this, Crichton," swore the Peacekeeper.

"And your little dog too," John muttered, watching as the shuttle door slid shut. "Have a nice trip, don't pick up any hitchhikers. Pilot," he called as soon as he reached the corridor outside the hangar bay. "Tell me when Crais leaves Moya."

"Welcome back, Commander," Pilot's voice greeted him. "The shuttle has just left the hangar bay."

"Good riddance, you crazy bastard... Alright, Pilot, let's get out of here before anything else goes sideways."

* * *

"The shuttle is leaving the leviathan, Sir!"

Crais's second in command stared at the monitor, analyzing several possibilities. They had been unable to contact the planet for more than half an arn, so he was not sure what was happening on the surface. But the shuttle that the prisoners had used to escape had made a trip to the leviathan. That could only mean they were back on the ship…

"Are you ready to knock out the cannons' targeting system?"

"Yes, Sir. It will take them about thirty microts to get it back online."

"Shuttle has just left the ship, Sir," another officer informed him.

"On my mark, disable the cannons, arm our weapons, target the leviathan and fire with all we've got."

"Awaiting your order, Sir."

The second in command clenched his fists. "_Now_."

* * *

"Captain Crais." Preyal's voice greeted over the shuttle's intercom. "I'm glad to see Mr. Crichton has kept his end of the bargain. Of course, had he done otherwise, I would have ordered my men to fire the cannons at the leviathan…"

"Fire now! Blow them up! I want them _dead_‼"

"Are you sure? Your shuttle is not yet at a safe dist-"

"Fire, you frelling pewnkah! I order you to fire! _Kill them all_‼"

"As you wish."

* * *

**A/N: This is a longer chapter than usual. I meant to split it into two parts at first, but then decided to just put the whole thing up as one installment. Thanks for reading! As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts/comments/questions on the story. And I apologize again for the super slow update time...!  
**

**~livestar  
**


	19. Luck, Be a Lady Tonight

**A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who read the last chapter, and to everyone who left me their comments! It's great to hear from you guys.  
**

**Chapter 18: ...Luck, be a lady tonight (2)**

On the planet's surface, Preyal nodded to one of his mercenaries. "Aim all the planetary cannons at the leviathan and prepare to fire." He was playing with a little red gem, part of the payment that he had received recently; he tossed it into the air, then caught it again. "Let's see if their luck has run out yet…"

Another mercenary grinned back at him. "Cannons moving into position…"

The Peacekeepers that had accompanied Crais down to the planet to transport the prisoners watched nervously. They knew that if the leviathan escaped again, their fate would not be a kind one. They had allowed the prisoners to escape, and worse, they had allowed their captain to be taken hostage on one of his own shuttles! Sure, the human Crichton seemed to have kept his word, and allowed Captain Crais to leave the leviathan in the shuttle, but the officers harboured no illusions that Crais would grant them the same mercy. The second he laid eyes on them, they'd probably be demoted, dishonourably discharged...or worse.

Unless Preyal and his men fired their impressive array of planetary cannons and fried the leviathan once and for all. In that case, Captain Crais would probably be too busy celebrating to deal with their sub-par performance in the whole prisoner transport fiasco.

"_Fire now! I order you to fire! Kill them all!_"

They winced as they heard their captain's bellows over the comms, ordering the mercenary leader to open fire on the leviathan. The leader, for his part, looked utterly calm, maybe a little amused, playing with the small gem as he waited for his men to confirm...

"Cannons in optimal firing position and ready to go!"

Preyal flashed his teeth in his usual feral grin. "Time to roll the dice, my friend." He caught the gem one last time, and leaned closer to the comms, to give Crais the satisfaction of hearing him give the order. "Fire all cannons."

* * *

John was relieved to hear that Crais had, for once, taken the reasonable way out, and that his shuttle had left Moya's hangar bay. It was about time for something to go their way...

_"Alright, let's get out of here before anything else goes sideways." _

He sprinted down the corridor, nearly tripping on a DRD, which earned him an indignant whistle from the little robot. "Sorry buddy, adrenaline rush," he muttered.

Pilot's voice filled the corridor. "Everyone, please prepare for star-" He broke off for one second, then resumed, sounding considerably more alarmed. "The command carrier's frag cannons are becoming activated! They are locking on Moya's position!"

John gritted his teeth as he continued his dash toward command. "Of course they are."

* * *

"Sir, frag cannons are locked onto the leviathan." The Peacekeeper officer's fingers hovered over the control board. "Awaiting your order."

Crais's second in command nodded briefly. This was it. They would deal with those frelling prisoners once and for all. Finally put an end to a nearly cycle-long chase that had delayed everyone's careers. "_Fire_."

A deadly salvo exploded out of the carrier's cannons.

* * *

John picked himself up from the floor. At least he had made it to command before Moya had jolted and sent him sprawling. "_Please_ tell me we can still starbust."

Pilot's hologram flickered. "The damage is…minimal." The alien looked, and sounded, somewhat baffled. "The frag cannons have missed us by more than twenty metra."

Holding on to one of the consoles, Chiana met John's gaze and grinned. "Told'ya I knew what I was doin' when I stayed behind on their boat."

* * *

"What's happening, you useless grot! The leviathan is still there! We didn't even hit them!"

"I-I don't know, Sir! The targeting system is malfunctioning! The firing vector was miscalculated!"

"Fix it! Or better yet, move, you frellwit!" Crais's second in command shoved the lower-ranked officer away from the console. "I'll do it myself!"

* * *

"_Why aren't your frelling cannons firing? _Traitor_!_" Crais's voice was irate. "_I'll kill you myself! You're in league with the human, you lying piece of dren!_"

"Be quiet, Captain!" Preyal allowed a tinge of annoyance to seep into his tone. "Our planetary defence system was momentarily knocked offline."

"_Liar! They couldn't have done that! That leviathan can barely -_"

"It wasn't the leviathan, _Captain_." The mercenary leader allowed a smile to curl a corner of his lips. "The jamming signal came from your command carrier."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, and Preyal wished he could have seen the Peacekeeper's face.

"Impossible!" Crais sputtered eventually. "_You _lie_, pewnkah, and you _will _pay with your -_"

"If you really don't believe that it was your own ship that prevented our cannons from firing, I suggest you ask your people," Preyal said silkily. "Either way, before you continue provoking me, be warned that we are only a few microts away from restarting our system, your ship is still in range, and I do not like being insulted."

"The leviathan's initiating starburst," one of his men drawled. "They'll be out of range before we get the cannons back."

"How lucky for them," murmured Preyal, twisting the little red gem between his fingers. "Well, Captain Crais, your ship has broken our precious mutual trust by disabling my planetary cannons. I will add that to your total debt to me. You have one arn to make the payment in full…unless of course you wish us to exact payment by firing on your command carrier."

This time, there was no reply from the shuttle. Instead, the line disconnected. Preyal smiled again, and exchanged a look with one of his men.

"Today was a good day for business, my friend."

* * *

Light-cycles away from the mercenaries' planet and Crais's command carrier, John Crichton wiped off a sheen of sweat that was making his eyes sting. "Damn, I need a vacation. And lots and _lots_ of drinks served in coconuts, with little _freakin'_ umbrellas in them!"

Pilot's hologram watched him with interest. "Are you alright, Commander?"

"Ask me after happy hour," muttered John. He gave a still-grinning Chiana a sour look. "You. Look _way_ too happy."

The Nebari chuckled. "I told ya Preyal was alright. Y'all should let me make the plans from now on…this one worked out _perfect_!"

"You call _that_ perfect? Your buddy Preyal was supposed to make sure the command carrier didn't fire on us!"

Chiana shrugged. "Alright, almost perfect. Besides, after I frelled their weapons system, no way those frag cannons could've hit us. It'll take them arns to fix the damage. And I got us Aeryn's Prowler back!"

Crichton gave up with a groan. Chiana was in full gloating mode, and he didn't care if they had escaped thanks to the mercenary or thanks to sheer dumb luck, as long as they were far away from anyone who wanted to blow them out of the sky. And he did find a little satisfaction in imagining Crais's reaction to their escape.

Okay, a lot of satisfation.

"Take that, you crazy bastard." John shook his head and laughed. "Hope you're all out of antacids."

* * *

Crais's shuttle docked in the command carrier's hangar bay. The two unlucky officers that had been assigned to greet him waited in the corridor outside. They had been the two guards outside the human's cell; this was part of their punishment for having allowed the prisoner to escape. They knew there was a chance they would not survive the Captain's return.

For a moment, there was no movement. Then the door slid open and the Captain stepped into the corridor.

The two Peacekeepers stood at attention. "Sir!"

"Get out of my way." He sounded oddly calm. Only his eyes looked about to pop out of their sockets.

The two guards nearly tripped over their own feet in a hurry to clear out of his path. Crais marched to the command deck silently, each step deliberately slow, his boots falling heavily against the metal floors. Every single crew member he met virtually jumped out of his way.

After making sure he was out of sight and earshot, the two Peacekeepers let out a relieved breath. Then they exchanged a glance. Their thoughts were one.

"We're going to need a new second-in-command."

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for reading! As always, I love reading your feedback. There are only a few chapters left! And next chapter, we'll be seeing some excitement on the SGC side of things, because really, they've been quiet for too long. **


	20. Incoming Call, pt 1

**A.N. Thank you so much, everyone, for following this story :) I always appreciate your comments and thoughts!**

**Incoming Call, pt. 1: Interdimensional Generators and Qualta Blades**

Landry had been standing next to the desk for a good minute, watching Sam furiously type commands into two separate keyboards and manipulating a strange 3D graph that spanned multiple monitors. She had completely ignored his knock on the door, as well as his subtle attempts to get her attention by clearing his throat or tapping his fingers on the desk. Finally, the General decided to abandon subtlety entirely.

"Colonel Carter."

He was a little sorry to see her jump in her seat. He also chided himself for picking a particularly bad moment when she had been reaching for her coffee mug.

"Sir!"

Landry caught the mug before it rolled off the desk; luckily, it was already empty. He almost offered to get the colonel a refill - she certainly looked like she needed one.

"I didn't hear you come in."

He allowed a small smirk. "Good to know all this time sitting behind a desk hasn't affected my stealth training." Growing serious, he nodded toward the computer screens. "How's it looking, Colonel?"

Sam nodded. "I'm almost done. I think the simulation has found the global optimum, but I'll let it run a few more minutes just to make sure that's the smallest phase difference we can reach. Then all I have left to do is program the frequency and wave length into the same device we used to create the interdimensional bridge…"

"Then will you be able to contact Ms. Mal Doran in the…parallel universe again?"

Another nod. "Yes, Sir. And we should be ready to open a passage…"

Her next words were cut off by Bill Lee rushing into her office. "Oh _thank God_ you're almost ready, they've been driving me crazy! Did you _have_ to tell Dr. Jackson to review all my technical records? And Ms. Sun, too? General," he greeted in passing, before relaunching into his complaint. "And I'm not even going to mention Colonel Mitchell asking me to run a full spectral analysis on him in case we can use his data to find this … doppelganger, Clayton or Payton…"

"Crichton." Sam had the decency to look slightly ashamed. Sending Daniel and Aeryn on a wild goose chase to review Dr. Lee's records had gotten them out of her hair, but she imagined it had made for a very agitated few hours for the fellow scientist. "Sorry about that…"

"Hrmm," the short, balding man quickly found himself disarmed by her apology. That did not prevent an ounce of grumpy sarcasm from slipping into his voice when he replied. "Glad to be of service. Well, in any case, I'm going to tell them you're done, so they can leave my office and my records alone…"

Sam thanked him with a smile, then called him just as he was about to leave. "Actually…I could use some help setting up the interdimensional bridge again."

Dr. Lee stopped near the doorway. "Oh?" He was going to make her ask. After having to deal with her compulsive teammates for half a day, a little ego boost was the least he could get in compensation!

Sam gracefully complied. "One last double check when programming in the parameters wouldn't hurt, and calibrating the wave length and frequency would go a lot faster with two people…"

"You're not planning on calibrating in manually!" His need for ego-stroking forgotten, Dr. Lee walked up to her desk, leaning over to look at the screens. "The loss in precision could be catastrophic!"

"I programmed in a manual failsafe, and I plan to watch the engagement of the two poles, to make sure it goes through the way it's supposed to…"

"Of course, you can supervise the ground pole and I'll do the remote one, any misalignment during pole engagement and we can recalibrate manually up to a few microherz…"

General Landry took his cue to leave. Since Dr. Lee had clearly become distracted, he headed toward the scientist's office to inform the rest of SG-1 and Ms. Sun that the bridge was almost ready.

And then maybe he would get Colonel Carter that coffee refill.

* * *

"Are you certain this is going to work?" Aeryn looked more than a little doubtful as she watched the small metallic sphere that was supposed to generate an interdimensional bridge. "It doesn't look very…reliable."

Sam sighed, suddenly reminded why she had sent the woman to Dr. Lee's office in the first place. "Don't worry, it should work just fine…at least according to the simulations."

"Does it really need that many loose wires? Peacekeeper standards would never allow such arbitrary design and waste of materials."

Sam returned a tight-lipped smile. "I didn't exactly have time to make it pretty. But it's definitely functional…probably." She grimaced. "It works out on paper, but there's no way to know for sure until we try it."

"Why don't we dial Vala then," Mitchell jumped in before Aeryn could say anything else, "and get this show on the road."

"I couldn't agree more." Landry crossed his arms, giving them all an impatient look. "Whenever you're ready, Colonel."

"Yes, Sir…" She initialized the program and adjusted the microphone and speakers. Then there was nothing left to do but let the program run until it established the connection, and so they all stood and waited, watching the pint-sized device in tense silence.

* * *

John was relieved to see Vala sitting up on the bed, her legs dangling over the side, while Zhaan waved some sort of device over her shoulder. Half of her was covered by a thermal blanket. He winced at the sight of the many bruises and abrasions on her back and arms.

"How's she doing?" he mouthed when the Delvian looked up from her work.

"Nothing irreparable," came the placid, optimistic response.

Vala turned her head toward him, eliciting a mild scolding from Zhaan, who warned her to stay still. John had a feeling it was not the first time that the Delvian had had to issue that warning. Vala looked fidgety and bored and not at all like an easy patient. A lot like Aeryn, in fact. Guess the two of them did have some things in common after all.

"I think your friend Captain Crais is _not_ a very happy man right now." Vala smirked.

"Trust me, he'll get over it and concoct another insane plan to get us…he's very reliable like that."

Vala cringed when Zhaan touched her ribs.

"Are you sure it's not irreparable," she muttered. "Because it feels like I was run over by an Alkesh."

"It will heal soon," Zhaan reassured.

"Hmpf," Vala scoffed doubtfully.

"You should be grateful to be alive." D'Argo's voice boomed from the doorway. The Luxan wore an angry scowl and, more worrying still, his Qualta blade. "However little that lasts."

* * *

Ordinarily, one was wise to get out of the way of a furious Luxan - if, that is, one wished to stay alive. And with the slightly darkened shade of his skin, his bared teeth and flared nostrils, and the way he clutched the Qualta blade, D'Argo had all the markings of a furious Luxan.

Fortunately, John had learned to discern between the alien's real anger and his intimidation tactics. So as he watched D'Argo march toward Vala's bed, he was about ninety percent certain that the Luxan meant only to frighten, and not dismember her.

Vala, on the other hand, seemed unaware of that fine distinction, and kept a wary eye on the scowling behemoth barrelling toward her .

"Don't think I have forgotten that you lied to us and stole from us."

The former space pirate flashed an innocent grin. "Water under the bridge? Forgive and forget, that's my motto-"

"When you escaped Moya in the Prowler," D'Argo said in a low, menacing tone, "I swore I would run you down and kill you for your deceit."

He advanced on Vala, shaking off John's half-hearted attempt to stop him. ("Okay, D'Argo, you know what, you're totally right, but-")

"You pretended to be Aeryn and took us all for fools." D'Argo continued, the same low rumbling in his throat. "I don't _like_ being taken for a fool. And I do _not_ like being imprisoned. Because of you, I was in a cell once more."

"What a coincidence, me too! You know what, after Blue here is done patching me up, we'll grab a drink, swap stories - my treat, of course…"

The Luxan stopped only a few inches from the bed. "I also swore I'd rip out the throat of anyone who tries to put me in chains again!" he snarled right into her face. "Because of you, I again had to bear the chains around my wrists. Do you know how that feels?" He leaned toward her, and his tone dropped to a deliberately low, ominous growl. "Tell me, thief, how do you think that feels? How do you think it feels to be in a cage, locked up, in chains?"

Vala had gone quiet, and John suddenly felt almost bad for her, and definitely more worried. A little payback for her earlier lies was one thing, but D'Argo sounded genuinely dangerous, and his intimidation tactics were going a little too far. Perhaps it was time to jump to her aid before…

"You know in some cultures, that's a form of propositioning." Vala wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, and winked. "What do you have in mind, big guy?"

…on the other hand, perhaps the intimidation wasn't going too far after all. John closed his eyes and sighed.

The Luxan paused, his next threat frozen in his throat.

Then he let out a low growl and glared at Crichton.

"I never thought I'd say this, but get Aeryn back faster."

With those words, he turned around and marched out of the room with one last, irritated snarl.

"That was…fascinating." Zhaan sounded as serene as ever as she applied some ointment to Vala's shoulder. "You seem to be equipped with either great bravery, my dear, or very poor survival instincts. Interesting. Are you certain that you're not human?"

"Hey-I'm _right_ here, Zhaan, you know that right?"

"Oh, I meant no offense, John," smiled the Delvian. "I was merely pointing out a similar pattern of behaviour."

"Simil-okay I get it, big smartmouths," Crichton rolled his eyes, "but at least I never propositioned D'Argo, okay?" He paused for a second, then frowned. "At least, I hope I didn't. Not intentionally. Y'know I'm still hazy on some of these damn alien customs…!"

Zhaan gave another mysterious smile. "Don't worry John, we have all learned to be very understanding of each other's idiosyncrasies."

He sighed. "I'm not even gonna ask what you mean."

"This sounds like a _very_ interesting ship," Vala piped in.

"Shut up, Dorothy."

"_Hello? Uh-Vala, are you there? Can you hear us? Hello…?_"

* * *

**A.N. Thank you for reading! Comments are always welcome:)!**


	21. Incoming Call, pt 2

**A.N. Two chapters in a couple of days...that's pretty much the faster I ever updated anything! Here's to a positive trend of quick updates...:-P? **

**Thank you so much for reading, and to those of you who commented, I'm glad you're enjoying the story! I always love to see your perspective on things and learn from your comments :). **

**Incoming Call, pt. 2: The trouble with alternate life choices**

Vala almost jumped off the bed when the strange voice came out of thin air. John couldn't blame her - any connection to home and he probably would've been just as excited.

"Sam? Is that you? Can you hear me?"

"_Hi. Yeah, we've got you. We're all here_." This time the woman's voice sounded relieved. Not a surprise, given that last time they'd spoken, he and Vala had been in a prison cell on Crais's ship, about to make a very dangerous escape. And sure enough, they remembered that on the other side as well, as about three voices asked, in unison: "_Are you okay?_

And then, the voice that John was waiting for. _"Did you manage to leave the command carrier?"_

Vala grinned. "Good as new. And yes, we're all back on Moya in one piece."

"_What happened to my Prowler?_"

John almost laughed. "The Prowler's fine, Aeryn, you can thank Chiana when you get back."

"_And Crais?_"

"Unfortunately, he's fine too…give or take an ulcer. Listen, speaking of getting back…"

"_I think we have a way to do that,_" the woman, Sam - or, as she had introduced herself the previous time, Dr. Samantha Carter - spoke again. "_I've built a device that should reconstruct the interdimensional bridge, but we're going to need to energize and calibrate it on both sides._"

John nodded. "Fine with us, just tell me what to do."

* * *

"Damn it!" John wiggled his fingers to fight the numbness that was already setting in. "Pilot, can you tell Moya to stop electrocuting me?"

"I'm sorry, Commander, but the neural fibers in the starburst chamber are highly conductant, and we cannot isolate them without seriously affecting Moya's motor abilities. If you _insist_ on handling the starburst coils, electric shocks are to be expected."

"Great…" muttered John, then reached again for the same coil, more carefully this time.

"I don't think Pilot likes this too much." Kneeling next to him on the floor, Vala was handling some spare metallic coils and discs that the DRDs had brought her.

"It'll be fine. You heard your Sam, no external heat transfer, no residual charges that could hurt Moya. The energy surge should be fully used up by the bridge."

"If it works." Chiana appeared in the doorway carrying a small package, which she tossed next to John. "Slebvnik gloves. D'Argo says they'll absorb the electric shocks."

"Thanks, Pip."

"Y'know, I'm no expert at this," Chiana said, circling the two of them, "but even I know we shouldn't be pleeking around with the starburst system. If we frell it, we'll be sitting negniks next time a Peacekeeper ship comes along."

"Ha! Finally someone who sees it! The human is going to blow us all to bits!"

Chiana rounded on the Hynerian. "Were you eavesdropping, toad?"

"I have as much right to be here as you do, you little malik! And don't pretend, you think just as I do, this is magra-fahrbot! Why should he get to decide this, anyway? We should vote!"

"Can it, Rygel. Everyone agreed it's the only way to get Aeryn back."

"Well what if we don't _want_ her back, Crichton? Eh?" The Hynerian moved toward them on his floating chair. "I'd rather have a functioning Leviathan than a Peacekeeper deserter, it'll keep me alive longer!"

John rolled his eyes, but before he could reply, another voice rang out:

"_I wouldn't count on that, Rygel. You talk too much to stay alive for long._"

John and Vala stopped what they were doing, Chiana jumped a little, and Rygel's chair took a dangerously abrupt turn.

"Ah-Aeryn?" the Dominar stuttered. "How long have you been listening in?"

"_Long enough_."

"Uhh-well, I don't care!" he replied with fake bravado. "This whole plan is mad! You're going to get us killed, and as a voting member of this frelling crew, I forbid it!" His voice became more shrill as he became more worked up. "Besides, why would you want to come back anyway, eh? I'd like nothing better than the chance to be free of this blotching squag of a ship! Why waste your chance at freedom? No more Peacekeepers, no more bounty hunters – _ha_! You're better _off_ staying – "

"_Shut up, Rygel. I'm not interested in your opinion on – well, on anything, actually._"

John interrupted before Rygel had a chance to retort. "You heard the lady. Zip it, Buckwheat – and don't even _think_ about trying to sabotage this," he warned, yanking back a cable that the Hynerian had been pulling on, "or I'll personally shoot you out an airlock."

"_How are the preparations going, Crichton? Can you safely draw the energy from the starburst chamber?_"

Still keeping one eye on the grumbling retreating form of Rygel, John pulled on the gloves that Chiana had brought. "Getting there. I could use some more detailed instructions on what exactly I'm trying to put together here."

"_That's why we're calling."_ This time it was Sam's voice, tired but trying to sound upbeat. "_Aeryn's been giving me a primer on Moya, so we can try to work together to set up your end of the connection._"

"Great …any chance you can get a video chat going? I barely know what I'm looking at here." He poked listlessly at the bundle of neural coils.

"_I don't think so…sorry. But Aeryn seems to know Moya's physiology and technology pretty well, and we've already got a few ideas on how to build some of the circuitry…_"

"It's not Aeryn's knowledge that I'm worried about," muttered John.

"_Pilot can help you,_" Aeryn said.

"He _could_…but he's not exactly hundred percent onboard with this."

There was a short silence on the other side. When Aeryn's voice came through again, it sounded more distant, somehow.

"_This is a dangerous experiment, Crichton. If you don't think you can set up a safe connection, I'm not going to go against Pilot's warnings and risk harming Moya or her baby. I –_"

"I know." John sighed. "Look, we'll get it done."

"Why don't you let me go talk to this pilot of yours," Vala suggested, getting up from the floor. "And you three can figure out what coil goes where."

"What makes you think you'll have better luck than Crichton?" asked Chiana.

Vala flipped her hair back. "Oh, I can be _very_ persuasive," she said in a sultry voice, and winked.

That earned her a grimace and a sideways glance from John. "I don't think Pilot responds to that kind of persuasion."

Vala grinned. "We'll never know until we try, right?"

"_I hope this is another human idea of a joke_," Aeryn commented, "_because you cannot _possibly_ entertain that plan. She _is_ joking, correct?_" The silence on the other side was answer enough. "_Oh_, frell _no! Crichton, you will not allow her to march up to Pilot and say any of that!_"

"Well, it worked with D'Argo," Chiana murmured with a wicked grin.

"_D'Argo_. _D'Argo?! Crichton!_"

"Okay that's it, you're not going anywhere. Sit!" John pointed back to the floor, but Vala only rolled her eyes.

"Oh, have a little faith, would you? I just want to chat. Mostly," she smirked, then slipped out the door before anyone else could protest.

His next protest rendered futile, John pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Well, at least by the time she's done chatting, Pilot will probably have more than enough incentive to want that bridge up and running as much as we do."

* * *

"We need to get this bridge working faster."

Sam gave the steamed Aeryn a sympathetic smile. "I wouldn't worry too much about it. Vala might come off as a bit, uhm, eccentric, but she actually knows what she's doing…most of the time," she amended in a very low voice, almost to herself. "She'll probably convince your pilot to help Crichton modify Moya's starburst so they can safely open the connection."

"I'm not worried about _whether_ she will convince Pilot. I'm worried about _how._"

"_Pilot's probably used to all kinds of crazy after a year with us. I doubt there's too much Dorothy can do to shock him."_

"There's enough," Aeryn muttered. Eventually, she crossed her arms with a resigned, if still irritated, expression. "This is all your fault, Crichton."

"_Yup, so you keep telling me._"

"Easy for you to be so frelling calm. This dimension's Crichton is a perfectly sane, normal individual."

"_Calm? I'm still trying to wrap my head around this mess. Another me running around in another universe, and his name isn't even John Crichton. I don't even know anyone named Mitchell. Actually, I think maybe my dad had a friend named Mitchell… I wonder_ – "

"Don't go there," warned Sam, "it's not worth the headache." She stood up from her chair and walked to the large jug of coffee that someone had mercifully left on a desk in the corner. "It's pretty much impossible to figure out exactly where your dimension and a parallel one split."

"And completely irrelevant," added Aeryn. "Our time would be better spent figuring out how exactly to rewire the starburst coils to harness their energy."

"_Come on Aeryn, don't tell me you aren't even a little curious to know how you ended up a Sebacean and a Peacekeeper, instead of a nutsy space pirate?_"

"Curious, no. Grateful, yes."

* * *

Sam stayed out of John and Aeryn's exchange, trying to think of how to best steer the conversation away from the status quos of the alternate realities. Over ten or so years of occasionally dealing with the issue of alternate universes, she had developed a very strong dislike for them, mostly because in all other universes out there, it seemed, her counterpart made some, well…life choices.

" –_it's fun, y'know, the road not taken and all that_ –"

Life choices that Sam did not exactly feel comfortable bringing up with other people.

"_You know, I think I knew a Samantha Carter once."_

She grimaced. She'd so seen that coming, and did not like where it was going. "Uh, you did?"

_"She was a couple of years ahead of me in the academy_."

To make things worse, Teal'c and Daniel chose that exact moment to show up in her doorway, and damn if Daniel didn't fight down a smirk as he heard Crichton and saw her expression.

"_I think she left the Airforce pretty early on though… married, I think –_"

(Sam bit her tongue, and resolved to throw something at Daniel if he grinned, or smirked, or so much as twitched a facial muscle).

" –_some FBI agent or detective or something, I can't remember his name –_"

"That's really okay –" she hurried to reassure him, unfortunately to no avail.

"_MacGuiness, MacGregor…MacGuffin…_"

"Oh." Sam didn't know whether to feel relieved or disappointed. "I don't think I know anyone by that name."

At least she could give Daniel a perfectly-neutral-yet-totally-meaningful glance. Take that. She hid her smile by taking another sip of coffee.

" –_and they moved to some cabin in Minnesota_."

Sam choked on the coffee. Teal'c arched an eyebrow.

"I think the third neural plexus in the starburst chamber is the perfect place to ground the connection," Aeryn said, oblivious to the effect of Crichton's story, and Sam was more than happy to launch into a lengthy conversation about Moya's biomechanoid neural fibres.

* * *

**A.N.: Thanks for reading! As always, I love hearing from you :) **


	22. Interlude

**A.N. Thanks to everyone who's reading this, and double thanks to all of you who review! Always great to hear from you. One of the reviews reminded me that, in terms of romantic pairings (well other than John/Aeryn which I hope is well and not-so-subtly hinted at!), this story is still very much in the air. If you have any comments and suggestions on that, feel free to let me know, as I am very ambivalent on the issue. (not usually! but in this particular story I am.)**

**Chapter 22: Interlude**

The door slid shut behind her with a loud metallic whirr. Pilot's den was dark and quiet, but it had a peaceful, welcoming quality about it that Vala had not expected. She took a few steps forward toward the centre console.

"Hello! I don't believe we've been officially introduced. I'm –"

She stopped mid-step when Pilot's chair swivelled to face her. Even to a jaded space traveller who had seen hundreds of species in her lifetime, he was profoundly, undeniably… alien. So alien, so foreign, in fact, that her gaze was inextricably drawn to him, and it was almost impossible to look away.

"I already know who you are." Pilot's voice did not sound particularly friendly. "And I know why you're here, Vala Mal Doran."

"Oh?" Vala felt a surge of childish exhilaration as she directed her eyes to meet his , and when their gazes crossed she couldn't help a smile.

"I'm afraid I can't help you," said Pilot. "I will…_defer_ to the wishes of the crew, but I will not assist Commander Crichton's endeavours any more than absolutely necessary. We have been taking too many risks recently, and I _must_ protect Moya! I simply do not feel comfortable going along with another risky plan, this time from someone who has never seen a Leviathan, who knows nothing about Moya's physiology and cares nothing for her safety!"

When no reply came for a few seconds, Pilot continued in a softer tone.

"Moya and I both feel concerned that trying to modify the starburst chamber is far too dangerous. We strongly prefer that you consider alternatives."

His statements were again greeted only by silence, though Vala still fixed him with a keen gaze.

"Please tell Commander Crichton that I am sorry we cannot find a suitable compromise. It is…unsettling to be at odds with the crew, but – " He paused again to give her a questioning glance. "Are you feeling well?"

"Yup."

Pilot tilted his head. "Hmm. In many cultures, it is considered impolite to stare."

That got a reaction out of Vala, who finally broke eye contact as she burst into laughter.

"You're right, I'm sorry," she said after a few seconds, still fighting down the last chuckles. "I was…well, let's just say it's been a long time since I felt this way. You're…remarkable."

Pilot gave her a sceptical glance. "I appreciate the sentiment, but if this is an attempt at flirtation, I must warn you that –"

To his surprise, Vala let out another laugh.

"Can't say I didn't fully earn that," she chuckled, "but no, I'm serious. And I don't often get a chance to say this: You _are_ extraordinary…" she paused, her tone becoming more cautious. "May I…?" With barely restrained exhilaration, she reached out a hand toward him.

After a brief hesitation, Pilot held out one of his limbs. They touched, Pilot's cold, claw-like appendage against her warm, damp palm, and Vala's face was lit up by a bright smile.

"Thank you," she said simply.

This time, Pilot regarded her with open curiosity. "Commander Crichton had a similar reaction when he first arrived on Moya. I thought _you_ had encountered alien species before."

"Oh, I've seen plenty. But never anything like you and Moya," she murmured, looking up at the ceiling with a hint of awe as she spoke the name of the Leviathan. Then, a moment later, she recovered, and gave Pilot a mischievous glance. "I do sometimes give honest compliments, you know!"

Pilot was silent for a long moment, but he moved toward the console, bringing himself closer to her.

"Moya…likes you," he said, straightforward yet only the slightest bit puzzled. "When the bounty hunters attacked us, she opened the door to your cell because she trusted you not to hurt her and her baby."

Vala nodded. "I know."

"Yet now you would risk damaging her starburst system, or worse."

"No, we're not going to let that happen," she promised. "We'll think of another way, if we have to. But...Look, I know you've never actually met her, but Sam really is fantastic at making things _work_. Computers, ships, alien technologies, wormholes…" Vala's voice took on an almost pleading tone. "If you just listen to what she has to say, maybe you two can think of some way to make this plan safe for Moya."

Pilot gave her a long look. "I will not assist in anything that puts Moya at risk."

That elicited a frown from her, but she did not argue.

"However," Pilot continued, "I see no harm in talking to this 'Sam' you mentioned."

Vala's face lit up. "Really?"

He nodded in reply. "I cannot promise that we will agree to the plan. Just that we will … listen."

"That's more than enough." Vala smiled. "I'll go let them know we have to set up a line between you and Sam. Oh and…" she met his eyes again, and a trace of her earlier wonder still shone through."Thank you, for letting me talk to you. I know I've not been exactly building the best reputation here, and you _must_'ve known what I was going to ask. You could've probably just locked that door to keep me out."

"I admit I…considered that alternative. But I was…curious about you." He hesitated for a moment, then continued. "I did not understand why Moya chose to trust you against my warning. Please do not be offended," he added.

"I'm not. I was curious, too. You know…" she sounded thoughtful. "I'm not sure if anything like you and Moya even exists where I come from…but if they do, I hope I get to meet some of them, someday."

Pilot nodded. "If that is what you wish, then I wish you good luck."

Vala turned and headed for the door, but Pilot's voice called out when she was only a step away.

"Vala Mal Doran?" When she looked back, Pilot seemed somewhat taller, as though he were sitting up in his chair. He held up one of his arms, in a silent acknowledgment. "I am…glad…that I did not lock the door to keep you out."

She smiled and nodded in acknowledgment before the doors hissed shut behind her once more.

* * *

People generally thought she was smart. They called her a genius, sometimes. Well, it didn't take a genius to know that when the numbers on the screen began to change size and melt together in one hazy, watery mess, it was time for a nap.

Unfortunately, naps were a luxury far beyond her reach these days.

Sam squeezed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"So, if a microt is approximately one-point-three-two-two-eight seconds," she repeated, scribbling the computation on a piece of paper in the hope that it would make it easier to solve, "and the optimal frequency on our end is eight-point-three-one ten to the ninth Hertz…adjusting for the two different decimal places in Boltzmann's constant…and assuming a travelling velocity asymptotically close in norm to the speed of light…"

She felt that her brain was doing push-ups, and this was about as simple a calculation as they came. Another sip of coffee did nothing to help untangle the mess of numbers in her head.

"…then you should calibrate your frequency to…"

"_Six-point-two-eight-two ten to the ninth Hertz, right?_"

Thank God for John Crichton's astrophysics training (or airspace engineering, or rocket play dough models, whatever it was that he did. She could barely remember her own name. Genius indeed.)

"Right. Uhm, Pilot, do you think it's safe for Moya to make that adjustment to the electric activity in her starburst neural plexus?"

"_That should not be a problem_."

"Jackson." While Sam and Crichton worked through another adjusted to her equations, Mitchell had discreetly slipped into the lab and walked up behind Daniel. "Need you outside for a minute."

"Why?"

"Cigarette break," Cam deadpanned. "Why do you think? We've got a problem."

* * *

**A.N. So, a few chapters ago I was wondering if I let the SG-1 party get off too easily on this story. I mean, the Moya crew + Vala jumped through some pretty big command-carrier-sized hoops before getting to safety, while at the SGC they were (mostly, Aeryn & Daniel's little stint in the supply closet notwithstanding) sitting around working out the science of how the swap happened in the first place and introducing Aeryn to the wonders of Earth chocolate. So I wondered if maybe I should jolt them out of their cosy situation, but I wasn't too sure. **

**Well, as you can infer from the end of this chapter, I finally made a decision on that :-P. But I also don't want to drag on this story forever, so I'll try to keep the drama short. But, if anyone has any ideas that they'd like to see before Aeryn will (attempt to) leave the SGC, now's the time to let me know! I got a couple of great ideas for the Vala/Crais interactions from your feedback, so I'd be glad to see more on the SGC side of things:). **

**Okay enough from me, thanks for reading the story!:)**


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